




























vI 


Copyright N° 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 







WAS IT A MURDER? 


OR, 

WHO IS THE HEIR? 



\LE BAG.) 



FORTUNE DU BOISGOBEY. 

1 » 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 



RAND, McNALLY & CO., PUBLISHERS. 


t 1> 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1883, 
By RAND, McNALLY & CO., 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


OR, 

WHO IS THE HEIR? 


CHAPTER I. 

La Germoniere is not a chateau. La Germoniere has 
neither towers, nor moats, nor drawbridges, nor a main 
building flanked by two wings. Neither is it a chalet in 
the Arcachon style, nor an English cottage; still less is 
it a farm-house. It is a great country house, built in the 
bourgeois reign of Louis Philippe by a rich druggistwho 
loved comfort and despised architecture. 

There are no artistic ornamentations, no roofs adorned 
with carved vanes and fancy gutters, no plinths, no ped- 
iments, no mouldings. Nothing but a cube of masonry, 
rising above a terrace in the Italian style, and pierced by 
three rows of windows at equal distances from each 
other. 

It resembles a sub-prefecture or a barracks, the ideal 
of ugliness. 

But it is built entirely of cut stone. It is a folly in 
granite ; but a folly which did not cost too much ; for the 
quarry is only a short distance off. 

Therefore the economical constructor gave himself the 
luxury of two piazzas with flights of steps and balus- 
trades, one upon the court and the other upon the gar- 
dens. 


4 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


F or there are gardens, and gardens such as are rarely 
seen. Trees abound there, trees a hundred years old 
which the druggist did not have the time to cut down 
and which the new proprietors have respected. A river 
bounds the park, which is laid out in the F rench fashion, 
a real river, navigable for boats, although it is not classed 
among navigable streams, and quite deep enough to 
drown a person in. 

The druggistwho built the place experienced the truth 
of this latter fact. “ When the house is finished death 
enters,” says a Turkish proverb. One evening when 
this distinguished merchant had eaten and drank too 
much at dinner, after having arranged his accounts with 
his contractor to his own advantage, he took a walk on 
the bank of the river, and was found drowned in it the 
next day. 

His heirs did not trouble themselves to discover how 
he happened to fall in, and having no taste for a country 
life, they tried to sell the place; but they could find no 
purchaser, and La Germoniere remained for thirty years 
uninhabited. 

After the war of 1870, Madame Daudierne (without 
an apostrophe after the D.) bought it at half what it was 
worth, from the last descendant of the druggist, and she 
passed there regularly her summers and often a part of 
the autumn. 

She was a widow ; she possessed what is called in the 
provinces a handsome fortune, but what would be in 
Paris only a moderate competency, especially when one 
has two daughters to marry, and a son who has already 
committed many follies. 

These children, it is true, possessed an uncle, from 
whom they might be said to have expectations, for he 
had never married and he had made considerable money 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR f 


5 


in California, where he had gone to seek his fortunes 
after a rather stormy youth. 

But this uncle was an eccentric character, who had dis- 
tressing opinions in regard to inheritance. He claimed 
that a man had a right to dispose of his property as he 
wished, to leave it by will to whomever he liked, even to 
spend it while he lived if he had a fancy to do so. 

He was a good relative, however, indulgent to his 
nephew, affectionate to his nieces and very devoted to his 
sister-in-law, while he railed at the ideas of the good lady 
in regard to the education of girls and the danger to 
which a boy is exposed in Paris. 

Uncle Armand was a jovial companion, bearing his 
fifty years lightly, and a great favorite at the Moucher- 
ons Club, where he spent two-thirds of his time. He 
was a little feared there, for he had a biting tongue, and 
did not spare the people whom he did not like. But he 
was pardoned for being caustic, because he was amusing. 

When his sister-in-law was in the country he did not 
appear very often at her house. He pretended that La 
Germoniere lacked women ; at his age it was pure folly 
to give such an excuse, but he declared that this criticism 
had no hidden meaning, and that he regretted women 
only on account of their conversation. Men, he affirmed, 
had not taste enough for a finely turned epigram. 

This particular year, however, instead of repairing to 
Biarritz, where it was his habit to go every year to join 
in September some of his comrades and ladies quite capa- 
ble of replying to his witty remarks, he came as soon as 
the hunting season commenced and established himself 
at La Germoniere to the astonishment and delight of hu 
sister-in-law. He even announced that he intended to 
make a long visit. 

It was November, and he was still there, and had said 


G 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


nothing of leaving. He had not hunted for ten years, 
but he suddenly developed a strong liking for all 
field sports. He killed partridges during the month of 
September, pheasants during October, and after All- 
Saint’s Day he shot woodcock. There was nothing to 
show that he would not wait till the arrival of wild 
ducks. 

All was changed in the household since he had been 
installed there. He often brought pleasant Parisians to 
the house, drove away the too tiresome provincials, and 
knew how to derive advantage from the others. The 
little city of Arcy-sur-Beauvron is only seven kilometres 
from La Germoniere. This intelligent idler woke it up, 
and it was indeed the most sleepy sub-prefecture of the 
department of Orne-et-Sarthe. He made of it a branch 
of Trouville and of Aix in Savoy. They played bac- 
carat at the Literary Club, where, from the memory of 
man, they had never played anything but Boston. 

They spoke of playing a comedy during the winter in 
the hall of the chateau, — for they said “ chateau ” now, 
and the lady allowed it. 

The old people of the place shook their heads and de- 
clared that she would be .ruined; but the mothers ap- 
proved in their hearts. They hoped to profit by these 
gaieties to settle their daughters, and Madame Daudierne, 
who had two, probably was of the same opinion as the 
other mothers, for she gave carte blanche to her gay 
brother-in-law, who took advantage of it to organize 
f£tes almost every day. 

The exertion of arranging parties of all sorts calmed 
him a little. He had moments of reflection ; and some- 
times, after dinner, he would fall into a profound medi- 
tation. He dined heartily, it is true, but it was evident 
that he was preoccupied with something beside his diges- 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


7 


tion. With what? No one had been_able to discover, 
for no one dared to questicm him. 

His sister-in-law feared he liad lost money, and his 
nieces suspected he was in love. The youngest, whose 
name was Germaine, and who was afraid of nothing, 
vowed that she would make him reveal the lady’s name. 
But Laurence, who was the elder and the more reason- 
able, thought that he was too sensible to make himself 
ridiculous as so many superannuated beaux are apt to do. 

Their brother Alfred put on a mysterious air, and said 
that Mademoiselle Coralie of the Fantaisies Comiques 
had gone to Russia, and he insinuated that Uncle Ar- 
mand’s melancholy was due to this unexpected flight. 

However this might be, their uncle, formerly so frank, 
became silent and absent-minded. He never departed 
from this abnormal torpor except to make sarcastic 
speeches, and on the particular evening our story opens, 
a dreary evening in autumn, he seemed peculiarly out of 
sorts. 

He was plunged in a great arm chair, in the corner of 
the vast fire place of the salon, and Madame Daudierne 
sat opposite to him. 

They had dined alone, but they were expecting com- 
pany. They expected company every evening. The 
young gentlemen of Arcy-sur-Beuvron had no need to 
be invited to come, about nine o’clock, to take a cup of 
tea, and the evening often ended in an improvised dance. 

Laurence and Germaine had ascended to their rooms 
to make some little addition to their toilets. Alfred had 
gone to Paris under pretence of arranging for some les- 
sons in law, and at this moment, was amusing himself 
behind the scenes of a minor theatre, where he was 
well known. 

• The brother-in-law and sister-in-law had been alone 


8 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


for twenty minutes, and they had not yet exchanged a 
word. 

Nothing was heard but the distant cracking of the trees 
in the park shaken by the wind, which was almost blow- 
ing a hurricane. It was not raining, but it was begin- 
ning to snow and it was bitterly cold. However, the 
salon was well heated and well lighted, and there were 
flowers everywhere. Winter remained outside, and it 
was pleasant to defy the weather with one’s feet stretched 
out toward a roaring fire. 

“What a storm!” growled Uncle Armand, passing 
his hand over his forehead, like a man awaking from a 
nap. 

“ F rightful,” said Madame Daudierne. “ I don’t think 
we shall have any visitors this evening.” 

“ The fact is, my dear Reine, if the young men risk 
coming here to-night to flirt with the young ladies, they 
must be fools. ‘ Crime alone can be abroad in such 
weather,’ wrote the late Ducray-Duminil.” 

“Who was Ducray-Duminil?” asked the hostess ab- 
sently. 

“ A novelist who was much in vogue under the First 
Empire, and who had a certain style as you can judge 
from that specimen of his prose. I don't think our young 
gentlemen from the city will take advantage of the storm 
to commit crimes, but I doubt if they will decide to brave 
it for the sake of your pretty daughters.” 

“ My daughters can get on very well without them ; 
and you too, I think.” 

“ Oh ! there are two or three of them that amuse me, 
and I would bet that Laurence and Germaine will regret 
not seeing them; Germaine especially. She adores 
music and she is crazy about dancing. It is time she was 
married.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


9 


“ She must wait till Laurence is married. But, my 
dear Armand, you speak very confidently. Do you think 
it would be so easy?” 

“Why, certainly, for Germaine especially, who pleases 
at first sight. Laurence charms those who know her in- 
timately, but so many people judge by first appearance.” 

“ Laurence has fine qualities,” said Madame Daudierne, 
a little piqued, “ and I don’t see why she should not make 
a good match.” 

“ She can make ten of them, if she is not too exact- 
ing.” 

“It seems to me she has the right to be so.” 

Instead of answering, Uncle Armand commenced to 
whistle softly to himself. 

“ Really, Armand,” said the mother, decidedly of- 
fended. “ I don’t know what is the matter with you, but 
you seem to take a pleasure in tormenting me about my 
children.” 

“ I ! I love your children ; I am as devoted to them as 
if they were my own, without even excepting that black 
sheep Alfred, who is already counting upon inheriting 
your fortune, as well as my own. Only, I have not your 
maternal illusions, and I see the situation as it is. How 
much dowry can you give each of your daughters?” 

“ A hundred and fifty thousand francs, as you know 
very well, and you know also that I can not give more.” 

“ Good ! And after you are gone, they will have as 
much more, if my charming nephew does not dimin- 
ish their portion by incurring debts, which you will be 
weak enough to pay. But just now they haven’t a sou, 
as their father left them nothing. He had no fortune 
when you married him, no more than I, who made mine 
in San F rancisco. In short, these young ladies are 
matches with a hundred thousand crowns, ‘ expectations 


10 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


included,’ as the prospectuses of the matrimonial agencies 
say. Therefore, they must be married to millionaires.” 

“That is just like you; you push everything to ex- 
tremes. Certainly, I think that Germaine would be 
happy with a very rich husband — ” 

“And you think that Laurence would be contented 
with a poor one ? ” 

“ Perfectly so, if she loved him. She has simple tastes, 
she is considerate and even-tempered. She is neither 
capricious, nor ambitious, nor — ” 

“Nor giddy, nor passionate. I grant you that. Al- 
though I have seen in my journeyings volcanoes covered 
with snow — ” 

“ There now, you compare my poor Laurence to a vol- 
cano. Really, my dear Armand, you are mocking me.” 

“ I had not the slightest idea of doing so, I assure you, 
and since the volcano has shocked you, I withdraw the 
volcano. I know the excellent qualities of your elder 
daughter, and I ardently hope that she will find a hus- 
band worthy of her. But just now I don’t see any one 
in this place who is suitable. Though there is no lack of 
suitors. Since I have taken up my autumn quarters at 
La Germoniere, all the male youth of Arcy has defiled 
before me, and I have counted half a dozen of the natives 
who aspire to become your son-in-law, but not one of 
them fulfils the conditions which I should exact. There 
is indeed the cock of the walk, handsome Arthur du 
Pommeval. He is not bad looking, he is not too great a 
fool ; but a gentleman who mixes himself up with horse- 
racing, and who has at the most fifteen thousand livres 
income, offers but insufficient guarantees.” 

“He will inherit from his uncle,” said Madame Dau- 
dierne. 

“ That is what can not be depended upon, the inherit- 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


11 


ing from an uncle. Let us talk of something else, my 
clear sister. Whom are you expecting this evening?” 

“ Every one and no one. Any one comes here who 
likes from nine o’clock to midnight, but the weather is so 
bad, we shall perhaps have no one but the good doctor.” 

u So much the better. His philosophy agrees with 
mine.” 

“ Our neighbors on the other side of the river may also 
decide to make their call which their nephew, M. du 
Pommeval,has spoken of for the last three months.” 

“ The Vignemals? They would be fools then, for the 
storm is turning into a cyclone. But — did you hear 
that ? ” 

“ What? ” 

“ That cry which seemed to come from the foot of the 
garden. I would swear that some one called for help.” 

“You must be mistaken,” said Madame Daudiere un- 
concernedly. “No one is walking in the garden at this 
hour and in this abominable weather.” 

“ I assure you, my dear, that I heard a cry, a cry of 
distress,” replied Uncle Armand, who had gone to the 
window overlooking the garden, and was listening with 
his ear pressed against the glass. 

“ It was only the wind.” 

“ No. It was the voice of a man, or of a woman.” 

“ Do you think that a murder is being committed near 
the house? You will end by alarming me with your 
lugubrious imaginings.” 

“ I don’t say that, but perhaps an accident has happened. 
The river is two hundred yards from here, that pretty 
river in which the former proprietor was drowned. Who 
knows if one of your servants has not fallen in.” 

“ My servants do not ramble about, at night, in danger- 
ous places.” 


12 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Oh, there are some sentimental chamber maids who 
meet their lovers in solitary places by moonlight, and the 
moon is now full. But I hear nothing more.” 

“ Because nothing has happened.” 

“ Or because the person who cried out is no longer in 
this world.” 

“ Armand, you are unbearable this evening. Y ou know 
that I am very nervous, and you take pleasure in fright- 
ening me.” 

The conversation was interrupted by a burst of silvery 
laughter. The door opened, and two young girls entered, 
hand in hand. 

They did not resemble each other in the least. One 
was fair and rosy, with beautiful golden hair and large 
dark eyes which sparkled with mischief and gayety. The 
other was dark and pale, with eyes of a shade very dif- 
ficult to define. 

Uncle Armand pretended that they were violet, which 
greatly annoyed Madame Daudierne. 

At all events, they were superb, though not so lively 
as those of her sister. They had an expression of re- 
signed sweetness, which was very touching, and some- 
times they sparkled like stars. 

This evening the fair Germaine was brimming over 
with laughter, while the dark Laurence was calm and 
quiet. 

“You seem very gay, little one,” said Uncle Armand. 

“ I have to be gay for two,” exclaimed Germaine. 
“ My sister is so dull. I have been telling her stories to 
rouse her. I have even mimicked old Baroness Verton 
when she is angry with her partner at whist. But all to 
no purpose. Mademoiselle is melancholy itself, like the 
barometer which has remained fixed at cloudy weather 
ever since yesterday. And I should like to know why. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


lo 

She has had wonderful success. This very week M. du 
Pommeval, who sets the fashion for the young men of 
Arcy, waltzed with her seven times, while he only hon- 
ored me with three wretched mazourkas.” 

“ F our, I counted them,” said Laurence gently. “ And 
then you know very well that if M. du Pommeval was 
attentive to me, it was only because he arrived late, and 
you were engaged for all the evening.” 

“ Oh ! I forgive him ! But I wish he would bring 
some of his friends here to-night ; for two days I have 
amused myself with crochetting, and I feel that I need a 
change of exercise.” 

“ Give us some music, then,” said Uncle Armand, “ for 
we shall have no one to-night. The wind will put to 
rout all the young men of the district.” 

“Ah! that is true,” cried Germaine, running to the 
window. “And it is snowing, besides. So much the 
better. I adore the snow. The trees all look as if they 
were dressed for a white ball, and were saluting each 
other, as people used to salute when they still danced the 
Lancers. And then if the pond in the garden freezes, 
we shall have skating. And that is such fun. But 
those gentlemen of Arcy are afraid of the cold. If I 
had a lover, I would like him to serenade me under my 
balcony with the thermometer at thirty degrees below 
zero.” 

“Germaine! Will you stop chattering?” said Mad- 
ame Daudierne. “Your sister is already at work. Help 
her to finish that foot-stool.” 

“Oh! No. Embroidery wearies me. I would rather 
play the piano. I am going to execute one of Offen- 
bach’s quadrilles and I shall imagine I am dancing.” 

“ Not too loud!” grumbled Uncle Armand. “I don’t 
like music except behind the scenes.” 


14 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“Have no fear, uncle; I will put on the soft pedal,” 
answered Germaine, sitting down before the piano. 

Laurence was busy with her work. Madame Dau- 
dierne, who no longer thought of the noise outside, had 
settled herself before the fire, when a servant in brown 
livery entered and announced in a well-trained voice : 

“ Doctor Subligny.” 

“ Welcome!” cried Uncle Armand. “You at least do 
not abandon us, under the pretext that the roads are bad.” 

“To brave the storm for us is beautiful; it is grand, it 
is sublime!” said Germaine, clapping her hands. 

“ Good evening, my dear doctor,” said Madame Dau- 
dierne. “ Come to the fire. You must be frozen.” 

“How did you come?” asked Uncle Armand. 

Everybody spoke at once except Laurence, who con- 
tented herself with a friendly smile. 

The doctor, who received such a warm welcome, had 
passed his sixtieth year, but he was as straight as a pop- 
lar and as strong as an oak. He had been a military sur- 
geon in his early years, and he still retained a certain 
brusqueness of manners tempered by the habits of society. 
He was a man of good birth, and a thoroughly honest 
man, which is better still; his face expressed frankness 
and kindness with a trifle of mischief in his eyes. He was 
loved in the city, and he was feted at La Germoniere, 
where the door was always open to him, and where he 
very willingly passed his evenings, especially since M. 
Armand Daudierne had taken up his residence there. 

Dr. Subligny had never married, and the two old gen- 
tlemen were great friends. 

“ Oh ! ” he answered, after having greeted Madame 
Daudierne and her daughters. “ I came on foot. My 
mare is old, and I was afraid that she would break a leg 
in this slippery weather.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


15 


“And you preferred to risk your own,” said Uncle 
Armand laughing. “ If I had known you were on your 
way here, I should have thought it was you who called 
for help just now?” 

“ Did some one call for help ? W ell, I have everything 
with me necessary to treat a wounded man.” 

“ Oh ! Don’t trouble yourself. Some one cried out, 
but he doesn’t cry any more ; and besides I am not ab- 
solutely certain that there was a cry.” 

“ Let us hope that you were deceived. I don’t believe 
there is any one else out this evening. I left Arthur du 
Pommeval and his gay companions at the club. They 
intended to come here in their carriages, but they were 
afraid of being upset, and they are now playing baccarat 
to console themselves.” 

“The cowards!” cried Germaine; “to play baccarat 
when there are two poor girls at La Germoniere who 
have not waltzed for forty-eight hours ! ” 

“ I acknowledge that they are very much to blame. 
But they have costly horses and they take care of them. 
Young du Pommeval has just bought a span which cost 
him three hundred louis.” 

“ This Beau Brummel of Arcy-sur-Beuvron is very 
rich then?” asked Uncle Armand. 

“ Rich? No. He has enough to live upon, and yet at 
the rate he is going — ” 

“ But he has a millionaire relative in the neighborhood 
from whom he will inherit, they tell me.” 

“ M. Vignemal, his mother’s brother. But he won’t 
get anything from him. Madame Vignemal is the mil- 
lionaire. Monsieur Vignemal did not possess much, when 
he married a widow almost as old as himself. It is true 
that since their marriage they have made wills giving all 
their property to each other. But the good man is quite 


16 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


sickly and his wife is as strong as an ox. She will bury 
him, you can rest assured, and du Pommeval will have 
nothing. She can’t bear him. I am sorry for it, for he 
has more virtues than faults, and if he should inherit 
their fortune, he would be a good match,” concluded the 
doctor, furtively regarding Laurence. 

Their eyes met, and he saw that she had not lost a 
word of the conversation; but she quietly went on with 
her embroidery. 

Germaine was looking through her music, and did not 
seem particularly interested in M. du Pommeval’s finan- 
cial future. 

The doctor, while talking, had taken an arm chair, and 
was warming himself before the fire with great satisfac- 
tion. 

“ These Vignemals are strange neighbors,” said Mad- 
ame Daudierne, after a pause. “ They live three-quar- 
ters of a league from La Germoniere. I went to see 
them some time ago, but I was not admitted, and they 
have never returned my call.” 

“ They do nothing like other people,” answered Doctor 
Subligny. “ They have horses and carriages, but they 
never use them.” 

“ They are miserly, then? ” 

“ The nephew is a spendthrift and that is a compensa- 
tion,” muttered M. Armand. 

u No, it is not because they are miserly, that they re- 
main at home. It is for a much queerer reason. Would 
you believe that Madame Vignemal is as jealous as a 
tigress of her husband, who is at least fifty-five and wears 
a wig? I must tell you, however, that she married him 
for love, a quarter of a century ago. She always sees 
him as he was then, and she is afraid some one may entice 
him away from her. So she holds him with a tight rein, 


OR, WHO IS TEE HEIR? 


17 


and he allows it. Yet I know from a good source that 
they will not long delay in paying their respects to you. 
They have been preparing to do so for the last three 
months, for the least change from the daily routine of 
their life is a great affair with them. But you will see 
them appear at the moment when you least expect them 
— this evening, very likely. Vignemal consulted me the 
other day as to what hour it was proper to call on you, 
and I jokingly told him that they never went to bed at 
La Germoniere till three o’clock in the morning. 

“ What sport, if they should come to-night!” cried 
Germaine; “ those good people must be a perfect circus. 
What fun I should have in watching them.” 

A severe glance from Madame Daudierne silenced the 
young girl, who softly attacked the first bars of F ortu- 
nio’s song. 

“ Humph! ” said her uncle, “ you have no need of the 
Vignemals to find something to make fun of. There is 
no lack of absurd people in this charming place.” 

“ No, these people are types.” 

“ What do you mean by types ? ” 

“ I mean faces which do not resemble all those you 
meet in the streets, peculiar characters, individualities, in 
a word.” 

“ By Jove! Mademoiselle, you express yourself very 
well. I should like to know how you learned to do it.” 

“ F rom the newspapers, when mamma allows me to 
read them. But acknowledge that I am right. All the 
young men of Arcy dress and talk after the same fash- 
ion; all the middle class are of the same pattern. Who 
knows one of them knows a hundred. I hoped better 
of the peasants, but I have been sadly deceived. I have 
not seen one who has not hair the color of tow, a sallow 
complexion, a red nose, round shoulders and a sly ex- 

2 


18 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


pression. The race is ugly and vulgar here.” 

“ I think you might make an exception in favor of M. 
du Pommeval.” 

“Oh! he is a being quite by himself. He has Paris- 
ian manners, and he would make a very passable hero 
of romance, if he did not part his hair in the middle, and 
if he brushed his whiskers a little less carefully.” 

“ Ah! you are dreaming of a Fra Diavolo.” 

“ Perhaps.” 

“ W ell, Mademoiselle, I can satisfy your longings,” 
said Doctor Subligny with a smile. 

“ What! Are there Calabrian brigands in the neigh- 
borhood of La Germoniere?” 

“ No, very fortunately. But there is a savage who is 
encamped upon your land without your ever having sus- 
pected it.” 

“ Tell me where he is, so that I can go and see him.” 

“ He is sometimes in your woods, sometimes upon 
your river. He is a wanderer who lives on your fish and 
game.” 

“ And — is he young ? ” 

“ He is twenty, and has a magnificent head.” 

“ Good! We will draw his portrait; not I, but Lau- 
rence, who' is a real artist.” 

“ Thanks,” said the elder sister quickly. “ I don’t like 
savages, and I don’t care to reproduce the features of this 
Mohican.” 

“ I doubt very much, besides, if he would consent to 
sit for you,” said Doctor Subligny. 

“No matter; I would like to see him,” said Ger- 
maine. 

“ So would I, to get out a warrant against him,” added 
Uncle Armand, “ if this redskin hunts and fishes without 
permission at La Germoniere.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


19 


“ But — What is it, Baptiste? ” he continued, addressing 
an old servant, who had just entered the room. “ What’s 
the matter? Why do you look so frightened? ” 

“ Monsieur,” faltered the domestic, “ an accident has 
happened.” 

“ An accident! Where? and to whom? ” 

“ Upon the river, Monsieur.” 

“ By Jove! I was sure I heard a cry; some tipsy 
peasant has fallen into the water.” 

“ No, Monsieur; it seems that M. and Madame Vig- 
nemal had entered the ferry-boat to cross the Beuvron; 
the wind broke the rope, and the boat was upset.” 

“Good Heavens!” cried Madame Daudierne, “and 
they are drowned! drowned coming to see us! for I am 
sure they were coming here, — the ferry is at the foot of 
the garden. It is frightful ! ” 

“ But some one must go there,” said Germaine. “ Per- 
haps there is still time to save them.” 

“ Roch says not, Mademoiselle. He saw the accident 
twenty minutes ago.” 

“ Roch! Who is Roch? ” 

“ Roch Ferrer, the savage I was telling you about,” 
responded the doctor. “ If he has not saved them, it is 
because it was impossible, for he swims like a fish and 
dives like an otter. The husband and wife are both 
dead ; there is no doubt about that.” 

“ The devil ! this is a strange occurrence, an occurrence 
which will materially better Arthur du Pommeval’s con- 
dition.” 

“ This is a nice time to talk about Arthur du Pom- 
meval,” cried Germaine. “ Y ou ought to hasten to the 
place where the accident happened, and try to resuscitate 
those poor people. People have been brought to life after 
being under the water an hour, haven’t they, doctor? ” 


20 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Rarely, Mademoiselle, very rarely,” answered Doctor 
Subligny, not without a smile. “ But nothing should be 
neglected, even in the most desperate cases. I will go. 
The thing is to know if the bodies have been recov- 
ered.” 

“ Roch tried to, Monsieur,” sighed the servant. “ But 
the current was so strong that it carried everything 
away. Even the boat has disappeared.” 

“ I was sure that fine fellow had risked his life to save 
them. He is as brave as a lion.” 

“ Then I forgive him for having delayed in letting us 
know about this,” interrupted M. Armand, “ and it is my 
advice to make another search. I will accompany you, 
doctor, and we will take all the servants. They can 
help us to explore the banks of the Beuvron. Your 
heroic poacher shall act as guide.” 

“ Roch has gone back to the river, Monsieur,” said the 
old servant. “ He wanted to dive once more.” 

“ Good ! He will have to come up to breathe, and we 
shall see him. The moonlight is superb now. Come, 
doctor; and you, my dear Reine, don’t worry, I beg of 
you. When one is as nervous as you are, worry is very 
dangerous. Ask our friends if it is not.” 

“ How can I help being troubled?” exclaimed Mad- 
ame Daudierne. “ I can not rid myself of the idea that I 
am in part the cause of the death of our unfortunate 
neighbors.” 

u Because you imagine that they left home to come 
and see you. Nothing proves that. But this is not the 
time for discussion. Come, doctor. And you, Baptiste, 
go down into the kitchen, call the coachman and the 
gardener, provide yourselves with lanterns, and let us be 
off.” 

“ You will take me with you, won’t you, uncle? ” said 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


21 


Germaine. “ I will only ask the time to get my cloak 
and hood.” 

“ Take you! Never in the world! You would be of 
no use. And I certainly hope that your mother will pre- 
vent you from leaving the house.” 

And without delaying longer to scold his enterprising 
niece, Armand Daudierne quitted the salon. 

The doctor followed him. He put on in the ante- 
chamber his broad-brimmed hat and his coat made of 
wolf-skin, while Uncle Armand attired himself in a thick 
overcoat and a fur cap. 

Germaine was very anxious to follow them, but Mad- 
ame Daudierne detained her with a serious admonition. 
Laurence, wise Laurence, opened the door, and said in a 
low voice to the gentlemen : 

“ You will return quickly, will you not? I was silent, 
because I had not the strength to speak ; but I still hope, 
and I implore you to bring us news as soon as possible, 
good or bad ; uncertainty is the hardest of all things to 
bear.” 

“ Be easy, my dear child, we will not lose a minute. 
Only cherish no illusions. M. Vignemal is at the bot- 
tom of the river, and Madame also; they will never come 
out alive.” 

Uncle Armand hastened down the stairs after the doc- 
tor. 

Baptiste was waiting for them, and the servants with 
the lanterns were ready. 

“ Go on before,” said Daudierne. 

The storm was at its height; the snow whirled through 
the air and was drifting rapidly. The chestnuts in the 
park bent, as if they would break, before the intermit- 
tent blasts, which came from the north like thunder- 
claps, and the lofty branches of the tall pines rustled 


22 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


with a noise like the distant murmur of the rising tide. 

The sky, obscured by clouds, brightened at intervals ; 
the clouds parted, and then the moon for an instant 
lighted up the winter landscape. 

The park stretched for some distance on each side of 
the house, but it was not very deep. The river ran about 
two or three hundred feet from the door. 

An avenue led to the bank, which was bordered with 
tamarind-trees and formed as pleasant a walk in summer 
as it was disagreeable in winter, for the valley through 
which the Beuvron runs is almost entirely enclosed, and 
the north winds blow furiously through it. 

It is also very thickly wooded, and the heavy foliage 
hides from the inhabitants of La Germoniere all view of 
the rather dilapidated manor in which the Vignemals- 
lived. 

This manor, called Fougeray, belonged to Madame 
Vignemal, who had inherited it from her father, and 
who had never had any repairs made on it either before 
or after her marriage. The lands about it produced very 
little, as M. Vignemal attempted to cultivate them him- 
self, although he knew nothing of agriculture. The 
woods had never been thinned, so that on the other side 
of the Beuvron, the country was wild and neglected, 
while on the right bank, bordered by Madame Daud- 
ierne’s property, it was like the gardens of a villa in the 
suburbs of Paris. 

Uncle Armand preferred civilization; so he had never 
had any desire to cross the river. 

This evening, however, he advanced bravely, paying 
no attention to the snow which beat against his face, and 
he appeared disposed to do his best to rescue the people 
in whom he had very little interest. 

It is true that the doctor, who was fifteen years his 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


23 


elder, gave him the example. He ran rather than 
walked.' There were two lives to be saved, and, in such 
a case, he spared no pains. 

“ Before leaving the house, I ought to have given or- 
ders to have blankets ready to wrap these people in, if we 
find them,” he said between his teeth. “ But I forgot. 
That is one of the misfortunes of growing old. And 
then the news of this strange catastrophe has troubled 
me so much — ” 

“ Very strange^ indeed,” cried M. Daudierne. “ What 
the devil were those Vignemals thinking of to embark 
on a wretched boat to come and see us ? Are there no 
bridges in this country ? ” 

“ There is one up the river, but it is nearly two leagues 
off, and the ferry was close to their house. They prob- 
ably did not wish to use their horses to-night.” 

“ And see what a time they choose to make their call. 
Upon my word, these people must have been idiots. 
And if their folly has cost them their lives, which is most 
probable, it is nothing but what they deserve. Between 
ourselves, I don’t care much. Only I am sorry for my 
sister-in-law, who is very sensitive, and unfortunately her 
daughters take after her.” 

“ The elder, especially,” murmured Dr. Subligny. 

“ Oh ! Germaine too, although it is less apparent. 
But Laurence feels still more deeply, because she keeps 
her emotions to herself; she is my favorite; I will tell 
you why some day. But our people have already reached 
the bank. I can see their lanterns. Let us hurry.” 

They soon reached the foot of a declivity which 
sloped gently down toward the park, and below which 
the Beuvron ran. 

The water, swollen by the rains which had preceded 
the first cold weather, was rolling rapidly between two 


24 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


steep banks, and the wind was blowing a veritable hur- 
ricane. 

The river, quiet enough ordinarily, had suddenly be- 
come a torrent. 

“ By Jove! ” exclaimed M. Daudierne, “I am not sur- 
prised that Philemon and Baucis have been swept away, 
Heaven knows where. They fell into a regular whirl- 
pool. I flatter myself that I can swim pretty well, but 
I would not be sure of saving myself in a flood like that. 
If your savage is able to breast that he must have won- 
derful strength. By the way I don’t see him. Perhaps 
he has gone to the bottom this time.” 

“ Baptiste,” cried the doctor. “ Where is Roch?” 

“We are looking for him, Monsieur,” answered the 
old domestic. 

“ Perhaps he has crossed the river and gone back 
home.” 

“ Home! Where does he live? ” 

“ I think, for the last few weeks, he has been living in 
a hut he built of branches on the other side of the river. 
He ha,s had some difficulty in regard to it with Madame 
Vignemal, who doesn’t like any trespassing on her prop- 
erty. But he defies her and the gendarmes. No one 
has been able to lay their hands upon him. I am prob- 
ably the only man to whom he shows a certain deference, 
and whose advice he sometimes deigns to listen to. I 
cured him of a broken arm, and he is grateful for it.” 

“ That is very fortunate. But tell me, where does this 
Robin Hood come from? Was he born in this part of 
the country ? ” 

“ No, but he came here when he was very young. 
His father was a gipsy, who came from Spain, and who 
rambled about the country, buying up old iron and shoe- 
ing horses. He was found dead one morning in a corner 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR t 


25 


of the faubourg of Arcy. The child was seated beside 
the body, but he was not crying. The Brothers of 
Charity received him and took care of him till he was 
fifteen years old.” 

“ I can divine the rest. When he was able to procure 
the means of subsistence by foraging, his gipsy instincts 
got the better of him and he ran away. But there is no 
use talking about him; we have other work in hand.” 

“ I don’t exactly see what. We have nothing to drag 
the river with, and besides the bodies must be far from 
here by this time. I had a little hope that Roch might 
have been able to recover them, and in that case, I should 
have attempted to work a miracle; if he has abandoned 
the attempt, we shall not succeed.” 

u I fear so, but if you will take my advice, my dear 
doctor, let us follow the bank to the end of the park and 
make sure that they have not been thrown up anywhere 
on the shore. The Beuvron makes very abrupt turns, 
and a body carried off by the current might easily be 
landed somewhere.” 

“ Y ou are right. W e must explore every part of the 
bank.” 

“ Down the river, of course. This is where the ferry 
was, unless I am mistaken.” 

“ Y es, Monsieur,” said Baptiste ; “ here is the path 
which led down to it, and the rope which stretched from 
one bank to the other is still hanging to the post to which 
it was fastened on this side. It must have broken in the 
middle. It wasn’t very strong, and it should have been 
replaced by a new one. But the ferry was so rarely 
used — ” 

“ Oh, a ship’s cable could not have withstood such a 
hurricane. But we must seek further down. Light the 
way, Baptiste, and take care of your lantern.” 


26 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Monsieur,” cried the gardener who was a little in 
advance, “ here comes Roch, running.” 

“ So it is,” said the doctor. “ I recognize him from 
his height. He is nearly six feet.” 

“ And he is running at full speed ; evidently he has 
some news for us, or he wouldn’t be in such a hurry.” 

Half a minute afterward, Roch Ferrer reached Dr. 
Subligny, and said to him breathlessly. 

“ I have found the woman.” 

“ Is she alive ? ” asked the doctor quickly. 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ What! you don’t know? You only saw her swept 
by in the water then ? ” 

“ Excuse me, I have touched her. I even tried to draw 
her out, and carry her on my back, but I could not.” 

“ What ! As strong as you are ? ” 

“ There is no strength which has not a limit. Her 
legs were caught in the roots of an old willow. It was 
impossible for me to free her by myself.” 

“ At least you need not have abandoned her. Sup- 
posing she was not dead, she must be so now, if you left 
her in that position.” 

“ If she is, it isn’t my fault. I dragged her head and 
her shoulders out of the water, and propped her up 
upon the bank.” 

“ With her head higher than her feet. Good; you 
have done, without knowing it, the best possible thing. 
There is still one chance out of a hundred for her; but 
let us hurry. Is this place far? ” 

“ A hundred steps from here. You know it very 
well. It is at the first turn in the river, where a point 
juts out.” 

“ Exactly; where the former owner of La Germoniere 
was drowned.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


27 


“ Yes, it is a bad place. There is an eddy there, and 
if one falls in, it is almost impossible to get out.” 

The above conversation was spoken hurriedly, and 
Arm and Daudierne had scarcely time to scrutinize this 
singular fellow, who had rather the air of a gentleman 
than of a poacher. He could only see by the uncertain 
light of the moon that he was very tall, well formed, 
and that he was dressed from head to foot in skins, like 
an Esquimaux. 

They all quickened their steps. The storm had not 
yet ceased. The snow still fell, and the wind blew vio- 
lently, but fortunately it was at their backs. 

“ And M. Vignemal, didn’t you find him? ” asked M. 
Daudierne of Roch, who was in front of him. 

“No,” he replied shortly. 

“ Then he is dead. W e must see to his wife.” 

“ I am afraid that she is no better off than he,” said 
Dr. Subligny. “ The recovery of. the body proves noth- 
ing; but we shall soon know.” 

“ Here we are,” said Roch, pointing to an opening 
among the trees. “ There is the willow just below us. 
The lady is lying close to it upon the sand.” 

The doctor pressed ahead and Uncle Armand followed 
close to him, crying out: 

“ Baptiste, my good fellow, bring us your lantern. 
The moon is behind a cloud, and we can’t see at all.” 

Then a minute after he added, addressing the doctor. 

“ But, by Jove! the body is not there. Your savage 
has deceived us.” 

“ Let us see,” said Dr. Subligny. “ Give us some 
light, Baptiste; and you, Roch, come and help us. Tell 
me again. Where did you leave Madame Vignemal? ” 

“ There, under that tree,” responded Roch, who had 
leaped with a bound up the bank. “ It is certainly true 


28 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


that she is not there now. I don’t understand it. The 
large stone that I placed under her head has not moved. 
The current must have swept away the body. Yes, look, 
the roots of the willow are broken, and the tree itself 
will fall presently, as the ground is all washed away.” 

“ That is so. Nothing can resist this cursed river, 
when it is swollen and the wind is from the northeast. 
But really, my boy, it was a bad idea of yours to leave 
that poor woman here, you should have remained near 
her and called for aid.” 

“ Yes, I see now that I was wrong. This will teach 
me not to trust to the strength of old willows.” 

“Well,” continued the Doctor, “it is clear that the 
poor woman was dead, for before being caught here, she 
must have been at least twenty minutes under water. 
But I would like to have attempted to recall her to life. 
Now, all hope is lost, and we have nothing to do except 
to return to the house.” 

“Not before I have told this idiot what I think of 
him,” cried M. Daudierne. 

“ Do you mean me ? ” demanded Roch, raising his 
head. 

“Yes, you, vagabond. Explain to us your conduct, 
instead of being insolent. Your behavior is very suspi- 
cious, and nothing proves to me that you did not help to 
drown these people whom you pretended you wanted to 
save.” 

Roch recoiled a step or two, and drew himself up like 
a race horse preparing to leap a ditch. But the doctor, 
who understood him, cast himself before him, and made 
a gesture to him to pause. 

“ Don’t you see I have risked my life? ” said the young 
man, approaching Baptiste, who held the lantern. His 
face, hair and garments were dripping with water. 


OR , WUO IS THE HEIR? 


29 


“ I dove three times,” he continued, “ and I might have 
have remained quietly upon the bank. No one would 
have blamed me, for no one knew I was there. Do as 
much, if you have the courage. You may perhaps dis- 
cover M. or Madame Vignemal.” 

The reply was convincing, and Uncle Armand was 
silenced. Roch’s tone and manner struck him. It was 
not the way in which criminals defended themselves. 
The pride of this strange being was not displeasing to 
him, and he commenQed to be interested in him. 

“ Let us go up on the bank,” said Dr. Subligny. “ The 
ground is not solid, and if we remain here, the Beuvron 
will carry us away also.” 

“ Without saying anything of the cold and the snow,” 
growled M. Daudierne, painfully climbing up the steep 
embankment. 

“ Roch,” said the doctor, “ you must come with us to 
La Germoniere. There is a good fire in the kitchen, and 
you must want to dry your clothes.” 

“ I want nothing, Monsieur, and I would rather return 
home.” 

“ On the other side of the river? Then you would be 
obliged to swim across it, and then go and lie down in 
your hut where a fox would die of cold. I forbid you 
to do it, my boy.” 

“ But Monsieur — ” 

“No observations. This is my order, and if you don’t 
obey, I declare that the first time you break a bone, which 
will happen soon enough, I dare say, thanks to the pleas- 
ant life you lead, I will let you get over it the best way 
you can. Besides, it is absolutely necessary that you re- 
late how this accident happened, since you witnessed it.” 

“ Oh, that won’t take long. I was on my way to my 
hut when I heard steps and voices. I hid myself in the 


30 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


underbrush close to the path. I thought they were two 
gamekeepers from Fougeray coming to seek me. But 
I recognized M. Vignemal and his wife, followed by a 
servant, and I saw that they intended to cross the river.” 

“Ah! there was a servant,” muttered Daudierne. 
“ What became of him? Was he drowned too? ” 

“ No. His master and mistress entered the boat, and 
he was about to do so also, but he remained on the bank 
to unloose the chain by which the boat was moored. He 
had scarcely done so, when the current bore away the 
boat and the rope broke. Then, he began to call for 
help.” 

“ It was he, then. He called so loud that I heard him 
in my sister-in-law’s salon.” 

“ Possibly. The wind was then blowing in the direc- 
tion of La Germoniere. When he saw the boat carried 
away, he lost his head and ran off.” 

“ Then he must have returned to Fougeray,” said the 
doctor. “ He should at least have given the alarm, and 
brought some one to try and rescue his master and mis- 
tress. But it is said that their servants were 'not very 
fond of them.” 

“ That is quite true. And that is the reason why, after 
having done all I could, I went to La Germoniere instead 
of going to Fougeray.” 

“ But first you leaped into the water? ” 

“ Oh ! without losing a second, and I thought I would 
be able to drag them to land, for the end of the broken 
rope was dragging in the water. The only thing to do 
was to seize it and to tow the boat to the shore.” 

“ Humph ! that wasn’t easy.” 

“ I should have succeeded all the same. The boat 
whirled about like a top, and I, who swam straight ahead, 
gairied upon it. I came so near them, that I saw them as 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


31 


plainly as I see you now. The husband was seated in 
the stern, and had his face buried in his hands. His wife 
was beyond him, and I think she was undressing, for she 
was unbuttoning her waist. It even seemed to me that 
she drew something out.” 

“ Her purse perhaps. She was in the habit, I believe, 
of carrying her bonds and bank notes about with her.” 

“ All that I can tell you, is, that just as I cried out to 
them : “ Don’t be afraid ! ” the boat struck against a 
pointed rock in the middle of the river. It was all over 
in a moment. It sunk, and I saw nothing more.” 

“ But you dove ? ” 

“ Yes, and I did not come to the surface till I was 
obliged to, in order to breathe. But I dove again fur- 
ther off, and again further off still, everywhere where 
I thought they might be, and you know that I am as 
well acquainted with the bottom of the Beuvron as I am 
with the top. I found nothing. It was my fault; I 
ought to have gone down to the old willow, but I was 
worn out.” 

“ Anyone would have been,” said M. Daudierne, who 
was touched by the simplicity of this recital. 

“ I was sure that you did not abandon them,” cried the 
doctor. “ You did more than your duty.” 

“No, I thought too late of that point of land where 
the woman was thrown ashore. I see, now, too, that I 
should have foreseen that the roots would break. And 
yet they were very strong.” 

“ Nothing could resist the force of the water. Now, 
tell me, when you drew Madame Vignemal out, was she 
warm ? did she still breathe ? ” 

“ I think not. It seems to me, however, that she made 
a movement when I laid her upon the bank, but perhaps 
I was mistaken. The only thing of which I am sure is, 


82 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


that her hands were tightly closed, as if she were hold- 
ing something in them. Her arms were as rigid as bars 
of iron.” 

“ Good ! I am satisfied. Life was completely extinct. 
I could have done nothing. That thought is some con- 
solation. Go on before, my boy, and when you have 
warmed and dried yourself at the chateau, you shall be 
free to go where you like. But I exact that you come 
with us. I have a word or two more to say to you, and 
I don’t care to prolong the conversation out of doors in 
such weather as this.” 

Roch hesitated. Evidently the prospect of drying 
himself at the kitchen fire was not alluring. But he had 
a great respect for Dr. Subligny, and he did not wish to 
vex him. So without a word he joined Madame Daud- 
ierne’s people, who were leading the way. 

“ You were right, doctor,” said Uncle Armand. “That 
poacher is a fine fellow.” 

“ He isn’t a poacher, properly speaking, for he does 
not sell the game he shoots, nor the fish he catches. He 
cooks and eats them himself. I myself have tasted of 
his cooking, and I can assure you it was excellent. He 
never thinks of money ; he wouldn’t know what to do 
with it. He dresses himself in fox-skins, and for a head 
covering, he makes caps of otter fur.” 

w He is Leatherstocking in person, this fellow. He was 
born to live in Canada. I have a great mind to propose 
to my sister-in-law to make him her gamekeeper.” 

“ He wouldn’t accept. He is too fond of his liberty. 
Madame Vignemal tried to get him to enter her service, 
but he wouldn’t listen to it. He preferred to live at war 
with her, and she finally left him in peace.” 

“ Between ourselves, doctor, his life is not a very edi- 
fying one, and the odds are that he will . end badly. I 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


33 


will confess to you that I thought for a moment that he 
had something to do with the drowning of our unfortu- 
nate neighbors.” 

. “He told you the truth on all points, I would stake my 
life on it, for he never lies. Besides, Madame Vignem- 
al’s servant was there when the accident happened. He 
will relate what he saw. 

“ Oh ! I don’t suspect your gipsy now. How old is he ? ” 

“ He doesn’t know himself. He was born on the 
highway or in the woods, and no civil officer has ever 
registered his birth. It is due to that circumstance that 
he has not been called upon for military service.” 

“ That is a shame. His figure is made to wear a uni- 
form, and although I didn’t get a good view of his face, 
he seemed to have the head of an artist’s model. But to 
return to the Vignemals’ sad end. Don’t you think 
there is something else for us to do? Not for their 
safety, since they have both gone to their last account, 
but there are some people whom we ought to inform as 
soon as possible.” 

“ I shall be at Arcy in an hour, and I will undertake 
to inform all the parties interested, the mayor, the j)rocur- 
eur of the Republic, and so forth; they will give or- 
ders for recovery of the bodies, and will probably appoint 
me to examine them. I will take leave at once of Mad- 
ame Daudierne and your charming nieces.” 

“ You won’t be obliged to go up to the salon to say 
good-bye to them, for I can see the young ladies stand- 
ing at the kitchen door, and I suppose their mother is not 
far off. See, they are talking with Baptiste. I am glad 
of it. We shan’t be the first to tell them the sad news. 
Ah! They have entered the house. Our people follow 
them with Roch. Let us do likewise, doctor; we shall 
be better off inside.” 


34 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


The kitchen was as vast as the guard hall of a fortress 
of the Middle Ages, and great trunks of trees burned in 
the monumental fireplace. Three great lamps illumin- 
ated the immense space which the fire already suffici- 
ently lighted up. 

Madame Daudierne had not come down, but her 
daughters had lost no time in questioning the old domes- 
tic, and when Uncle Armand appeared, they already 
knew of the fate of the Vignemals. 

Laurence was paler than usual, and her eyes were full 
of tears. 

“ Is it really true, uncle, that there is no hope?” she 
asked in a trembling voice. 

u Absolutely none, my dear child. Everything that 
was possible has been done to save them. I am not 
speaking of myself, for I arrived too late, and the doctor 
had no chance to utilize his medical science. The river 
has carried the bodies of our unfortunate neighbors far 
away from here. But I am going to present to you a 
brave fellow who has risked his life — but where is my 
hero? Oh! there he is, hidden in a dark corner of the 
fire place. Come here, Roch, and let us look at you. 
By Jove, you are well worth seeing.” 

Roch, strongly against his will, came out into the 
light. He had taken off his otter cap, and his brown 
curly hair fell in disorder over a rather low hut well- 
shaped brow. His nose was straight, the nose of a Gre- 
cian statue, his complexion olive, his mouth strong and 
well-shaped ; his large eyes sparkled like black diamonds, 
speaking eyes, which remained obstinately fixed upon 
Laurence. 

“ By Jove! how handsome he is! ” cried M. Daudierne. 
He never disguised his thoughts, and he did not hesitate 
to express them energetically. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


35 


“ The doctor, told us so,” said Germaine thoughtlessly, 
approaching to obtain a better view of the gypsy, whom 
this action of childish curiosity did not seem to disconcert, 
for he took no notice of it. 

Roch had eyes only for the elder sister, who regarded 
him as one would regard a rare bird or a Japanese 
bronze, with interest but without emotion. 

Germaine was much more excited, but she did not long 
contemplate in silence the features of the young savage, 
who resembled an Indian Bacchus. She thought all at 
once of the fine deed Uncle Armand had spoken of. 

“ You risked your life, Monsieur,” she said warmly. 
“ I am very glad to see you ; I like people like you, and 
I sincerely hope that you will come often to La Ger- 
moniere. My mother, I am sure, will want to thank 
you herself.” 

Roch, a little astonished at being called Monsieur, 
bowed without answering. He seemed to be waiting 
for some word from Mademoiselle Laurence. 

But this word was not forthcoming, and M. Daud- 
ierne spoke, to cut short Germaine’s admiration and com- 
pliments. 

“ My friend, you will not refuse, I hope, to accompany 
me some day on a hunting expedition. Dr. Subligny 
has spoken to me of your skill, and I am very anxious 
to shoot my sister-in-law’s game.” 

“ You are very good, Monsieur,” faltered Roch, “but-” 

“ I warn you if you do not come, I shall go after you. 
I insist on our having a hunt together. If the snow 
prevents us from going out, my nieces will draw your 
portrait.” 

“ That is, my sister will do it,” said Germaine smilingly. 
“ I shall have to be content with being present at the 
sittings. What do you say, Laurence? ” 


3G 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“We must first know if mother will -approve of this 
plan,” replied Laurence evasively.” 

“ I undertake to arrange all that,” said her uncle, “ and 
I depend upon you, Roch.” 

“ I will come, Monsieur,” said Roch after a pause. 

“ That’s well. Don’t keep us waiting long, or I shall 
think you bear me a grudge for certain rather hasty 
words which I regret having spoken.” 

“ Roch is too intelligent to remember them,” broke in 
the doctor, “ and if you will follow my advice, my boy, 
you will take supper this evening at La Germoniere, and 
sleep here. If you don’t, take care of the pleurisy. Be- 
sides you must come to me to-morrow at Arcy. I shall 
need you to explain the facts to the magistrate who will 
have charge of the inquest, and to save you from being 
questioned severely. You are not in the odor of sanctity 
with the lawyers, you know.” 

“ I shall be at your house by noon,” said Roch, with- 
out adding that he would take advantage of the hospi- 
tality which was offered him for the night. 

He bowed gracefully enough and went back to the 
fire place. 

Laurence simply returned his bow, but Germaine 
smiled and waved her little white hand as if to say “ au 
revoir .” 

“ Have you found at last the lover you were sighing 
for ? ” asked her uncle gaily, as they ascended the stairs. 
“ It seems to me that that fellow exactly fulfills your 
ideal.” 

“ Only too well. I shall marry whom I please, but I 
could never put up with a husband who lives in the 
woods.” 

u Oh! You would have to give up all thoughts of 
this one, any how,” replied M. Daudierne, continuing his 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


87 


joking. “ He scarcely looked at you, while your sister 
literally fascinated him. He devoured her with his eyes, 
and he hardly dared to move.” 

“ I did not perceive the effect I produced,” murmured 
Laurence. 

“ Well?” asked the anxious voice of Madame Daud- 
ierne, who was waiting for them at the head of the 
stairs. 

“ Bad news, my dear Reine.” 

“ What! Lost! Both of them! ” 

“ Hopelessly so. Heaven knows when their bodies 
will be recovered — perhaps never. The Beuvron is only 
a large creek, but it might pass for a river, as it empties 
directly into the sea.” 

“ Oh ! the bodies won’t be carried so far,” said the 
doctor. “ The flood which caused this disaster won’t 
last, and as soon as the water begins to fall, they will be 
discovered somewhere. Let us hope so at all events, for 
it would be very unfortunate if their death could not be 
legally registered.” 

“ Unfortunate for Roch, whose behavior was so mag- 
nificent, and who might perhaps be accused. Bah! I 
will aid you to defend him. He did not inspire me at 
first with great confidence, but now I would answer for 
him anywhere.” 

This conversation, began outside the salon, ended be- 
fore the fire. Madame Daudierne was trembling like a 
leaf, and her daughters had their arms about her. 

“ You are troubled beyond all measure,” said her 
brother-in-law to her. “ I pity M. and Madame Vig- 
nemal with all my heart, but after all I never saw them, 
nor you either.” 

“ I ought to have had that miserable ferry repair- 
ed.” 


38 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


“ Why, you did not use it, that I know of, and the other 
day in examining your title deeds, I discovered that your 
neighbors were obliged to keep the ferry in repair. You 
have nothing therefore to reproach yourself with, and so 
leave it to their heirs to mourn them,” concluded Uncle 
Armand philosophically. 

w I am afraid they won’t shed many tears,” remarked 
the doctor. “ I know only one of them, and he was 
more than half the time at variance with his uncle Vig- 
nemal, and always so with his uncle’s wife. She could 
not endure him, and as she led her husband by the 
nose — ” 

“Young du Pommeval was not well received atFouge- 
ray then? I suspected it, from the way in which he 
spoke of them. But how the devil would he inherit? 
Not an hour ago you said just the contrary. You even 
entered into very precise details on the subject. The 
loving couple willed everything to the survivor, and the 
wife possessed all the fortune. She perished at the same 
time as her husband. Can you tell which of the two 
was the survivor?” 

“ No, but the law provides for just such a case. In 
default of certain information on which the order of in- 
heritance can be based, it is regulated according to the 
ages of the deceased persons.” 

“ I remember now having heard that, but I had com- 
pletely forgotten it, and I am not very well up in the 
provisions of the Civil Code. It seems to me, however, 
the youngest should be presumed to have survived. That 
is logical.” 

“ Not always. Under fifteen years it is supposed that 
the oldest was the strongest.” 

“ Well, but our neighbors were much more than fif- 
teen.” 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


39 


“ The husband must have been fifty-five, and the wife 
fifty-four at least. I am certain that there was not six 
months difference between them.” 

“ That is of no consequence. If the husband was the 
elder, the wife would inherit.” 

“ I am not sure about that. It seems to me, however, 
that in determining the legal presumptions of survival, 
account is taken not only of age, but of sex.” 

“ Really, gentlemen,” exclaimed Madame Daudierne, 
“ I don’t see how ypu can, in face of such a disaster, dis- 
cuss a question of inheritance, which is of interest to 
none of us.” 

“ It is of great interest to some one whom we know, 
and as I was not acquainted with the deceased at all, it is 
quite natural that I should wish to be informed what M. 
du Pommeval’s chances are of becoming a millionaire. 
Apart from a few trifling faults, he is a charming fel- 
low.” 

“ Yes, he leads the cotillion better than any one else,” 
said Germaine, maliciously. 

“We have seen leaders of cotillions make excellent 
husbands, Madamoiselle,” said her uncle. “ But the 
question is now whether he will become master of 
Fougeray.” 

“ I shall be able to inform you to-morrow,” said Dr. 
Subligny. “ In a little city, uncertainty in regard to a 
matter of inheritance is not of long duration. The news 
of the accident will no sooner be known in Arcy, than 
the question will be settled. In Normandy everyone is 
a lawyer.” 

“ I don’t doubt it; but if there were a Code at La 
Germoniere, we could settle it at once. Unfortunately, 
these young ladies read nothing but novels, and I read 
only the newspapers.” 


40 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


44 A Code? ” said Laurence gently. 44 My brother has 
one.” 

44 So he has; he is thinking of studying law. I had 
forgotten that. But your studious brother is in Paris.” 

41 Oh! ” cried Germaine, 44 when he goes there, he only 
takes amusing books.” 

44 1 am quite sure of it. Now, the thing is to know 
where he has hidden this Code, which he has probably 
never opened.” 

44 1 saw it this morning upon the table, by his bed,” 
said Laurence.” 

44 He uses it to put him to sleep, most likely.” 

44 Shall I go for it, uncle ? ” 

44 If you please, my dear child.” 

When the elder sister had left the salon, Uncle Armand 
said: 

44 Y ou could not have remembered a law-book, Ger- 
maine. I’ll bet that you don’t even know what a Code 
looks like.” 

44 1 beg your pardon, my dear, uncle. It is a big vol- 
ume, with an edge of all kinds of colors, and shaped 
like a block. I acknowledge I have never read a word 
of it. I detest law. My Code is here,” said Germaine, 
placing her hand on her heart. 

44 If you govern yourself by that Code, you will com- 
mit nothing but follies. Don’t listen to that little girl, 
doctor, but tell us who are Madame Vignemal’s heirs.” 

44 Oh, there are many of them, male cousins and female 
cousins, each poorer than the other. Her father made a 
great deal of money as a merchant, but his relatives 
remained peasants, and Madame Vignemal did not care 
to see them. There was one however in whom she was 
once interested. He was an orphan, and as he showed 
some talent, she decided to bear the expenses of his edu- 


OR, WHO rs THE HEIR? 


41 


cation. She placed him in a Lyceum at Paris, and she 
took it into her head that he would be a magistrate. 
Perhaps she hoped that he would sit some day in 
the court of Arcy, and help her to gain her lawsuits. 
The good woman was constantly before the courts, as 
she was always in difficulty with all her neighbors.” 

“ Except with my sister-in-law.” 

“ Oh, she would have quarreled with her sooner or 
later. She was irritable to a degree of which you can 
have no idea. But to return to the young cousin whom 
she took a fancy to; I shan’t astonish you by telling you 
that she soon ceased to protect him. Roger had no lik- 
ing for the magistracy. When he left the Lyceum, he 
did not return here, and since then nothing has been heard 
of him.” 

“He is called Roger? His Christian name, I sup- 
pose?” asked Germaine. 

“ Yes, Mademoiselle; Roger Pontac.” 

“ That is short, simple and pleasant to the ear. I like 
the name of Roger Pontac. Then, no one knows what 
became of him ? ” 

“ Because no one tried to find out. Madame Vigne- 
mal knew perhaps. I have always thought that he en- 
listed, and I should not be at all surprised if he made his 
mark. He was an intelligent fellow, and he was afraid 
of nothing.” 

“ Perhaps one of these days, we shall hear of him as 
a general ; that would be better than inheriting Madame 
Vignemal’s money.” 

Madame Daudierne was about to interrupt this conver- 
sation, which she considered untimely, when Laurence 
reappeared bearing a massive octavo volume. 

“ Thanks, my dear,” said her uncle. “ Give me that 
interesting work; it is too heavy for you. Humph! 


42 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


Alfred has bought a first-class edition, but he has never 
used it. The leaves are still uncut. Do you know how 
to find anything in this, doctor?” 

“ I will try,” answered Subligny. “ What we want 
to know ought to be found in the chapter on the right of 
inheritance.” 

“ That precious Arthur du Pommeval does not suspect 
how much interested we are in him at this moment.” said 
Uncle Armand, while the doctor turned over the leaves. 

“ Here it is,” said Subligny. “ Book III, Chapter i, 
article 720.” 

“ Read article 720, please.” 

“ This is what it says: 4 If two or more people, who 
are reciprocally the heirs of each other, should die about 
the same time, without it being possible to know which 
died first — ’ ” 

44 That is precisely the case. M. and Madame Vigne- 
mal willed their property to the survivor, and the devil 
alone knows which of the two was the survivor.” 

44 4 The presumption of survival,” continued the doc- 
tor, “ is determined by circumstances ’ ” — 

44 The circumstances would be rather in favor of 
Madame Vignemal, for we are not absolutely sure that 
she was dead when ' the body was thrown upon the 
shore.” 

44 4 By circumstances, and by the age or the sex.’ You 
see, 4 by the sex.’ ” 

44 What follows ? ” 

“ Article 72 1 follows, which says that under fifteen 
years, the eldest is presumed to have survived, and above 
sixty years, the youngest.” 

“Go on! go on! That has nothing to do with the 
Vignemals. Between fifteen and sixty years, it is always 
the youngest, isn’t it ? ” 


Off, WHO IS THE HE lit? 


43 


“ Yes, article 722 says that in this case, it is always 
‘ in the order of nature.’ ” 

“ Then Madame Vignemal inherited from her hus- 
band, and Arthur du Pommeval will not have a sou.” 

“ You don’t let me finish. ‘ If they are of the same 
sex. ” 

“ And if they are of different sex ? ” 

u ‘ The male is always presumed to be the survivor, if 
they are of the same age, or if the difference in age does 
not exceed one year.’ ” 

“ The devil ! That changes everything, if, as you said 
just now, M. Vignemal was only six months older than 
his wife.” 

“ Not quite six months.” 

“ How well the wise legislators have arranged mat- 
ters. Thanks to them, Arthur du Pommeval will become 
a great gentleman. How large a fortune did the Vigne- 
mals leave ? ” 

“ They were considered to have fifty thousand francs 
a year, and as they did not spend half their income, their 
capital must have doubled. Their nephew will be the 
richest man in this part of the country, for the articles 
which I have read are very clear, and I don’t doubt that his 
right to the property will be recognized without diffi- 
culty. Madame Vignemal’s cousins will contest it, but 
they will lose their case. As for Roger Pontac, there 
will be no trouble in that direction; he is ignorant of his 
aunt’s death, and then, even if he should hear of it, I am 
sure that he would not claim anything. He is a careless 
fellow, who thinks nothing of money, and the fortune 
will be better placed in Arthur du Pommeval’s hands 
than in his.” 

“Eh! doctor? It seems to me that the handsome 
Arthur is a good deal of a spendthrift.” 


44 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


44 Yes, because lie is sowing his wild oats. But I know 
him ; he will change. Economy runs in the blood of this 
province. F or him to become steady, it is only neces- 
sary for him to marry, especially if he should have the 
good fortune to find some quiet, well-bred young girl, a 
girl whose firm character — ” 

44 Ah! The shoe doesn’t fit me,” cried Germaine, with 
a little burst of laughter. 

Laurence blushed; Madame Daudierne bit her lips; 
Uncle Armand frowned; and the good doctor, fearing 
that he had said too much, rose hastily. 

44 But I see that it is late. Permit me, dear Madame, 
to take my leave of you.” 

44 You must not return on foot,” cried Uncle Armand. 
44 Here is Baptiste with the tea. You must take a cup 
with us, while they are harnessing up the coupe. By 
the way, Baptiste, has that fellow had supper? ” 

44 No, Monsieur. He did not want any thing, and he 
has left the house.” 

44 We shall have some difficulty in persuading him to 
sit for his portrait,” said Germaine. 

The doctor threw up his arms. He despaired of civi- 
lizing his savage, and decided to accept the offer of his 
host. 

44 Let us leave serious affairs till to-morrow,” he said, 
seating himself again. 

He did not know how true his words were to become. 


CHAPTER II. 


In the northwest of France severe cold does not last 
long. The sea is not far off, and the warm current 
which comes from the Gulf of Mexico constantly tem- 
pers the climate of these moist regions. It rains often, 
but it rarely freezes, especially in the autumn, and to- 
ward the middle of November the Indian summer 
scarcely ever fails to brighten the dull season. 

The storm, which had proved so fatal to Madame 
Daudierne’s neighbors, was already over when the sun 
rose the morning after the catastrophe. Its first rays 
melted the snow, the sky was almost cloudless, the air 
was soft, and the Beuvron was gradually settling down 
into its bed. 

They rose late at La Germoniere, and they breakfasted 
together sadly enough. Everyone was thinking of the 
mournful event of the previous evening, and they could 
scarcely speak of anything else. 

They were without news from Dr. Subligny, the 
young savage had not reappeared, and the servants had 
not succeeded in finding the bodies, although they had 
searched the banks of the river for more than a league 
below the park. 

All this was not calculated to inspire cheerfulness, and 
to make a diversion, Uncle Armand proposed to his 
nieces to take a long ride on horseback. 

Madame Daudierne raised some objections. The time 
seemed to her badly chosen to ride over a country through 
which flowed the miserable creek in which the Vigne- 
mals had met their death. But her brother represented 
— 45 — 


46 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


to her that all the lamentations in the world would not 
bring them to life again, that the young ladies were 
sadly in need of exercise, that they were not connected 
in any way with the deceased couple, and that, more- 
over, horseback riding was mourning. 

This last argument made the lady smile, and Germaine, 
taking this smile for a consent, ran off to the stables to 
order the coachman to saddle the three horses owned by 
Madame Daudierne. 

Germaine was always ready for anything, and the 
only reason she did not accompany her uncle hunting 
was because M. Daudierne objected so strongly to her 
doing so. 

Laurence evinced less ardor for violent amusements, 
but she never made any opposition to Germaine’s wishes, 
still less to the desires expressed by Uncle Armand, and 
she consented graciously to be one of the party. 

In about an hour the two sisters, in their riding habits, 
came down stairs and mounted their horses, watched 
rather anxiously by their mother, who begged them to 
be prudent and careful. 

Germaine was charming in her dark-blue habit, which 
set off her rounded figure to perfection, and her broad- 
brimmed hat, a cast-aside Gainsborough which she had 
arranged for the occasion ; for she did not ride often, 
Madame Daudierne not having brought up her daugh- 
ters for an aristocratic life, although she had allowed 
them to take lessons in a respectable riding school. 

She wanted to marry them in the higher middle class, 
to which she belonged ; she thought that, to find them 
suitable husbands, it was not necessary to send them to 
gallop in the Bois de Boulogne like Americans crazy for 
excitement and eccentric pleasures. 

Laurence had utilized a' certain little low-crowned hat 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


47 


which her brother had worn the past summer at the sea- 
shore, and which was very becoming to her. 

As for M. Armand Daudierne, he wore the costume 
in which he was accustomed to ramble around in his 
sister-in-law’s woods — a round cap, a short jacket, velvet 
knickerbockers and high boots. 

He was not given to the gorgeous riding costumes 
which make the Champs Elys^es so brilliant. 

He sat his horse firmly, having ridden much in his 
youth, and he was still a fine figure in the saddle. Tall, 
thin and nervous, his eyes bright, his teeth white, and 
his beard scarcely silvered, at first sight none would have 
taken him for more than forty. 

He was mounted upon one of the two gray mares 
which belonged to Madame Daudierne’s carriage, two 
animals which could be used for either driving or riding, 
provided they were not forced to take very long jour- 
neys. 

The other had fallen to Laurence, who was well suited 
with it. 

But Germaine had reserved for herself a pretty blooded 
bay, which her brother Alfred pretended to have broken 
in himself, and of which he told marvelous tales. To 
believe him, this exceptional horse could leap, without 
stumbling, hedges five feet high and could hunt for 
twelve hours at a time without being fatigued. 

M. Daudierne, who hadn’t much faith in the exploits 
related by his nephew, was a little afraid of this boasted 
hunter, and would have preferred to mount him himself ; 
but the animal was not equal to carrying a heavy weight, 
and Germaine was so anxious to try him that her good- 
natured uncle allowed her to do so for this one time. 

To complete the cavalcade there should at least have 
been a groom in livery, but at La Germoniere they 


48 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


prided themselves on not conforming to the customs of 
Parisian high life, and old Baptiste would have cut a 
very sorry figure mounted upon a farm horse. 

“ Don’t be gone too long,” said Madame Daudierne, to 
whom the sight of her youngest daughter upon the 
spirited bay was by no means reassuring. 

“Have no fear, my dearReine; we shall return before 
night,” answered M. Armand. “ These young ladies 
are wild to be off; but when they have ridden for an 
hour or two they will have had enough of it.” 

“We shall see about that,” said Germaine in a low 
voice. 

The little troop started down the avenue which led to 
the highway where the park, which the former owner 
had surrounded with a wall, ended. On the opposite side 
the river formed the boundary of the estate. 

M. Daudierne rode on the left, Germaine on the right 
and Laurence between her sister and her uncle. 

“Where shall we go, young ladies?” asked the head 
of the expedition. “To ride is very well, but we should 
have some object in view. Suppose we go to Arcy? 
We will surprise Dr. Subligny, who may perhaps have 
some news for us.” 

“It seems to me that it would be more proper not to 
show ourselves in the city to-day,” said Laurence. 

“Why so?” 

“ M. du Pommeval’s affliction is so recent that we 
might be accused of indifference.” 

“ Humph ! I don’t believe that fellow will consider the 
coming into possession of a large fortune an affliction. 
But perhaps you are right; these provincials comment 
on everything. They are quite capable of saying that 
we were impatient to know who was to be the heir. W e 
had better furnish them with no occasion for gossip. 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


49 


Only if we don’t go to Arcy, I don’t see any other road 
to take except the one which runs along by the side of 
the Beuvron.” 

“ Oh! don’t think of that, uncle,” cried Germaine. 
“ W e might come across the bodies of those poor people, 
and that would be much worse than encountering M. du 
Pommeval. And I have a horrible fear of drowned peo- 
ple.” 

“ I thought you were afraid of nothing. But I ac- 
knowledge that the prospect of stumbling upon a dead 
body is not cheerful, and it might happen, for the river 
has fallen enormously this morning. But to return to 
my question: What road shall we take? I have no 
preference, but I don’t know many practicable excur- 
sions about here. The country is so full of rocks and 
ravines. It is very picturesque, to be sure, but it is not 
suited to horses, and if one of ours should return with 
his knees sprung, your mother would blame me for it. I 
could buy her another, but she would never have any 
more confidence in me as a chaperon for young ladies.” 

“ If you will let me direct the expedition, we shall 
have the most charming ride you can imagine, and I will 
be responsible for everything.” 

“ That’s a fine guarantee, indeed! Where do you want 
to take us ? ” 

“To Lemon Rock.” 

“ Where is that? ” 

“What! You have lived all this time at La Ger- 
moniere, without ever having heard of L6mon Rock ? ” 

“ Not one word of it. I know the Tertre wood which 
belongs to your mother and which is a capital place for 
woodcock, and the forest of La Breteche, where I have 
not permission to hunt, to my great regret; but as to 
L^mon Rock — ” 


4 


50 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Here we are at the end of the avenue. Let us turn 
to the right. I am going to tell you the legend, for there 
is a legend.” 

“A legend! That is charming, but is this romantic 
rock far from here ? ” 

“ Only about a league. And the road which leads to 
it is delightful. We shall pass through the very wood 
which is so dear to you on account of the woodcock. We 
then enter a wild gorge; there is a waterfall there and 
huge boulders, which hang over oii both sides.” 

“ Do you think boulders hanging over one’s head are 
pleasant ? ” 

“ Lovely ! But that is nothing to the beauties of my 
rock. Imagine a wall of granite, which is covered with 
a wealth of verdure, — the Alps or Pyrenees in miniature 
— and when you have climbed to the top, you are above 
the whole forest of La Breteche, you can even see the 
Duke de Bretteville’s chateau ; there is no such view for 
ten leagues around.” 

“ The chateau is nothing more than a shooting-box. 
and the Duke, who is too old to hunt, seldom comes 
there. I believe he is there just now though. M. du 
Pommeval told me so the other day. He even endeav- 
ored to persuade me to go and ask for permission to shoot 
the deer. But the request would be a little impudent, 
and I shan’t risk it, especially as I understand that the 
Duke has just lost his only son.” 

“ Yes, in Africa. The newspapers spoke of his death. 
He was killed while charging at the head of his regi- 
ment. W e may go to the rock, mayn’t we, uncle ? ” 

“ Well, as we don’t seem to be able to go anywhere 
else, I consent, but you must promise me to be careful of 
your horse.” 

“ Of course. Besides, see, Ralph is as gentle as a 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR t 


51 


lamb. He has behaved beautifully ever since we started. 
Alfred doesn’t know how to ride him, and he will end 
by spoiling him. I can do what I like with him. But 
I must tell you my legend.” 

“ Where did you hear it?” asked Laurence. 

“ M. du Pommeval told it to me. That astonishes 
you, no doubt, because he scarcely talks about anything 
but racing and jockeys. But, as he saw his horsey con- 
versation wearied me, he launched forth the other day 
into the most interesting stories, and this was one of them. 
In the middle of L£mon Rock there is a crack which ex- 
tends from top to bottom like an immense sabre cut. 
You have already divined that this crack is a portal of 
the supernatural. Fairies live within this granite palace, 
and Heaven knows what treasures are hidden there, dia- 
monds, rubies and emeralds galore. But no one must 
enter without their permission, and when they are in a 
bad temper, they let loose upon the country frightful 
tempests. The wind, which blows from their mountain, 
uproots trees, unroofs houses — ” 

“ And drowns people who cross rivers in boats,” inter- 
rupted Uncle Armand. “ There is nothing remarkable 
about your legend, Germaine. Brittany is full of such 
fairy tales.” 

“Wait! I haven’t finished. When a young girl 
wishes to know whom she will marry, she approaches 
the fissure, and speaks her name in a low voice, Laurence 
or Germaine, for instance, and then she hears a sweet 
voice like celestial music, the voice of the fairies, answer 
her; George, Ernest or Edmond. She is settled at once. 
She will love the man whom the fairies have named, and 
she will be loved by him, which is a very important 
point, for it would be too bad to marry her to an in- 
grate.” 


52 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“By Jove! the invention is ingenious. The sighing 
lover has only to hide himself behind the rock, and by a 
little use of ventriloquism can gain his point.” 

“ Oh! you, uncle, don’t believe in anything!” 

“ I believe that there are some girls silly enough to 
consult the oracle, but I hope you are not one of them.” 

“ I wouldn’t like to swear it.” 

“ That is you all over. Your sister would not confide 
her heart troubles to Lemon Rock.” 

“ Perhaps she has none? ” 

“You have them then?” asked her uncle, laughing. 

“ No, but I shouldn’t be sorry to. It would give me 
something to think of.” 

“Then if I were a handsome young man, like M. 
Arthur du Pommeval for instance, I know very well 
what I would do. I would hide near this diabolical tele- 
phone, and — ” 

“You would waste your time, perhaps. All names 
are not pleasing to the fairies. But here we are in Ter- 
tre wood. Isn’t it beautiful? Look at those great 
beeches, which shine like columns of white marble 
amidst the autumn foliage. One might say that: Le 
soldi et la -pluie ont rouille laforet. ” 

Where have I read that verse? Laurence, you ought 
to know. You know everything.” 

“ It is Victor Hugo’s,” answered the elder sister. 

“ I was sure of it. Ah ! if he had seen Lemon Rock, 
what lovely verses he would have written about it. I 
should have learned them by heart.” 

“ And you would spout them to us all day long, I 
don’t doubt,” said M. Daudierne; “ but just now I should 
be much obliged to you if you would be silent for a mo- 
ment. I want to listen. It seems to me that some one 
is walking in the woods there, quite near us.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


53 


“In the woods?” repeated Germaine. “Yes, I 
thought I heard a cracking noise. But I don’t hear it any 
more. We probably startled a deer, who is far away 
by this time.” 

“ There are no deer here — unfortunately,” growled 
M. Daudierne. “ The forest of La Breteche is full of 
them, but they don't come out of it. The woods which 
belong to your mother are not extensive enough.” 

“ Then it was a hare.” 

“ I am more inclined to think that it was a man.” 

“A poacher, perhaps. Who knows? The savage 
that Dr. Subligny presented to us yesterday.” 

“ Why should he hide himself? I invited him to hunt 
with me.” 

“ Indeed, he would do very wrong to hide himself; he 
is superb. I have never seen such eyes as he has, bril- 
liant, burning eyes. If he had looked at me as he looked 
at Laurence, I should have taken fire.” 

“ I am fire-proof,” murmured Laurence. 

“And I,” said Uncle Armand, “regret now having 
made any advances to that vagabond. I have reflected 
since last night, and the more I think of the Beuvron 
disaster, the more inclined I am to suspect the doctor’s 
prot£g£. The fellow pretends that he risked his life to 
save our unfortunate neighbors, but no one saw him, and 
we have nothing but his own word for it. Now, there 
are great discrepancies in the story he told us. He de- 
clares' that Madame Vignemal was cast up on the bank, 
but the body wasn’t there when we arrived. Nothing 
proves that the gipsy didn’t throw her into the water 
again.” 

“ But that would be a crime,” cried Germaine, “ and 
why should he have committed it? In order that M. du 
Pomm^val might inherit a fortune? Pooh! He does 


54 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


not know M. du Pommeval, and consequently has no 
reason to be interested in him. Besides,” she added, 
laughing, “he hasn’t studied the Civil Code, and he 
doesn’t know what are the — what do you call them ? Oh ! 
the presumptions of survival.” 

u That is probably so, but he was angry at Madame 
Vignemal, who had had him hunted down by her game- 
keepers. If I were a magistrate, instead of putting 
Arthur du Pommeval in possession of the property, I 
should commence by clapping this Roch Ferrer into 
prison, and I would leave him there until he had told the 
truth in regard to the ferry catastrophe.” 

“ Arthur du Pommeval would not relish that.” 

“ I can scarcely believe this Roch is an assassin,” said 
Laurence. “Your friend, the doctor, would not be in- 
terested in him, if he thought him capable of — ” 

“ Hush!” exclaimed M. Daudierne, suddenly stopping 
his gray mare. “ This time I certainly heard something, 
and I am positive some one is walking in the thicket, 
there, at our left. Let me listen.” 

The young girls were silent, and the little troop halted 
in the middle of the road, which was scarcely wide 
enough for three horses abreast. 

The trees which bordered the road were not very 
dense, and, here and there, there were clearings, where 
grew in great abundance the tall grass in which birds are 
fond of hiding themselves in the autumn. 

It waved gently to and fro in the breeze, but there was 
no appearance of a man being hidden in it, and every- 
thing was silent. 

“ You were mistaken, my dear uncle,” whispered Ger- 
maine, after a moment. “ There is no one here but our- 
selves.” 

“ Yes there is,” growled M. Daudierne. “ Some one 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


55 


has been following us, ever since we entered this road.” 

“ Who can be following us? Robbers? That is ab- 
surd. And no one that I know has any reason for spy- 
ing upon us. We are not conspirators.” 

“ I can not imagine the motive of this espionage any 
more than you, but I repeat, some one is following us 
close by, and if the underbrush were not so thick, I would 
ride into it. But I have another plan to capture the in- 
dividual who is impudent enough to watch us; apian 
I shall put into practice at once. Let us ride on.” 

“ I ask nothing better,” exclaimed Germaine. “ Ralph 
is becoming impatient, and if we stop every moment, 
I shan’t be able to hold him.” 

“We will trot a little further on. Here the ground 
is too bad. Tell me, are you sure that you can find your 
way to L^mon Rock? You have never been there, I 
think?” 

“No, but Dr. Subligny so exactly described the road 
to me that I have no need of a guide.” 

“What! Has Dr. Subligny also been filling your 
head with this Lemon Rock? I did not think he had a 
romantic turn of mind. Well, since I have been so weak 
as to start on this voyage of discovery I will go on to 
the end, after I have settled with the fellow who is dog- 
ging us. I must know, in the first place, what his ob- 
ject is.” 

“ Perchance it is on account of Laurence or me. That 
would be great fun. But among the young gentlemen 
of Arcy I don’t know one who would dodge about in 
the woods for the sole pleasure of seeing us at a distance 
through the leaves. In any case, I will answer for it 
that it is not M. du Pommeval.” 

“ Why are you always making fun of him ?” asked 
Laurence. 


56 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


“ In order to give you an opportunity to defend him,” 
answered Germaine gaily. “You have always had a 
weakness for the handsome Arthur.” 

“ Silence, young ladies, and listen to me,” interrupted 
their uncle, lowering his voice. “ Do you see that cross- 
road just in front of us? Go on to that and turn to the 
right. I am going to dismount and pretend to tighten 
my saddle. Then I shall get on my horse again and hide 
myself behind that great oak which is just at the point 
of intersection of the two roads. If the man who is 
following us comes out of the wood I shall see him, and 
shall undertake a hunt which will end, I am sure, in the 
capture of the animal. If, on the contrary, he does not 
show himself, it will be because his object is myself alone, 
and I shall soon distance him. The gray is sure-footed, 
and she is still good for a short gallop. You wait for 
me further on, and as soon as we are out of the woods it 
will be easy to prevent him from following us. Do you 
understand ?” 

“ Perfectly,” whispered Germaine. “ But suppose this 
man has evil designs, and should attack you ?” 

“ I shall be quite able to hold him in check. I never 
go out without a good revolver in my pocket. That is a 
habit I learned in America. But I would be willing to 
bet that the affair will end otherwise. Don’t be uneasy 
about me.” 

Germaine was about to speak, but M. Daudierne mo- 
tioned her to be silent, and raising his voice suddenly : 

“ The devil!” he cried, in a manner to be heard forty 
feet off, “that idiot of a groom did not know how to 
saddle my mare. The saddle is turning over. I must 
get off and fix it. Don’t wait for me, young ladies; I 
will catch up to you.” 

The two girls obeyed, a little against their will, but 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 57 

when they had turned the corner they looked back more 
than once. 

They soon saw M. Daudierne place himself behind a 
tree whose trunk was large enough to hide him. 

“ What a singular idea of uncle’s,” said Laurence. 

“ And it is not practical at all,” answered Germaine. 
“ If there is really a man hidden among the trees he 
must have guessed the reason of our protector’s wise 
manoeuvre to ferret him out, and he will have no diffi- 
culty in avoiding him. He will only have to retrace his 
steps.” 

“ Well, we shall be delivered from him.” 

“ So mlich the worse. I would have liked to see 
him.” 

“ I would not. This strange pursuit was beginning 
to alarm me, and I shall be delighted to have it end.” 

“Why? It is almost an adventure, and adventures 
are so rare. Only I don’t know exactly what to make 
of this; for some one was following us, there is no use 
in denying it. I heard footsteps very distinctly. And it 
wasn’t a poacher. A poacher would have hidden him- 
self instead of escorting us. All that is clear, and I am 
tempted to think that one of us two has turned the head 
of some handsome shepherd who takes her for a god- 
dess.” 

“ Always your romantic ideas! You haven’t common 
sense.” 

“ And you are too matter-of-fact. So I advise you to 
marry as soon as possible. And since we are on the 
subject of marriage, between ourselves, would you 
marry Arthur du Pommeval?” 

“ That is a question I have never considered.” 

“ Oh! indeed! Well, I think it is a question that will 
be put to you some day. Arthur has been very atteu- 


58 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


tive to you for some time, and, now that he is rich, he 
won’t delay in declaring himself.” 

44 I will wait till he does so.” 

44 Of course. But you ought to know what you will 
answer mother when she comes to tell you that the heir 
of the Vignemals has asked for your hand.” 

“ What would you answer if he should ask for yours?” 

44 That is equivocal enough, the way in which you 
avoid telling me what you think. You are terribly re- 
served, Laurence. Well, I will be franker than you, 
and acknowledge that if M. du Pommeval should give 
me the preference I should be very much puzzled what 
to answer. I have nothing to say against him, and I 
should never have so good an offer again. But it would 
be entirely a mariage de raison , and nothing more, for I 
do not love him. Those marriages are said to turn out 
better than any others, but I am not very anxious to put 
that statement to the proof. And yet I should perhaps 
accept him if I were urged to. In short, I have not 
made up my mind.” 

44 Nor I either.” 

44 Well, but you are the elder, and so you must marry 
first. And it won’t be long before you will be called on 
to decide, so I advisb you think it over. Oh ! oh ! Ralph 
wants to run away. I can scarcely hold him in. I am 
afraid that he won’t have the patience to wait for Uncle 
Armand, unless he joins us soon. If he delays I will 
answer for nothing. Can you see him ?” 

“No; he is still behind the great oak. You were 
wrong to mount that horse.” 

44 Oh, if I have any difficulty with him I shall be able 
to manage him. And then I would rather have accom- 
panied you on foot than ride that great cart horse you 
are on. Touch her up a little. Try to make her trot.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


59 


Laurence struck the mare with her whip, but the 
peaceable beast only slightly quickened her pace. 

The road was becoming worse and worse, especially 
for horses. The Tertre wood grew on the side of a 
hill whose steep ascent was not easy even for pedes- 
trians. 

In following the course of the Beuvron from La Ger- 
moniere one enters into a region full of steep hills and 
deep valleys; a real Norman Switzerland, which con- 
trasts most oddly with the rich plains of the low country. 

The Lemon Rock, so praised by Germaine, is the 
culminating point of the chain which divides the waters 
of the basin of the Seine from those of the basin of the 
Loire. 

The young ladies finally reached the edge of the wood 
where Uncle Armand had commanded them to wait for 
him, and they were a little surprised at seeing before 
them masses of rocks which seemed to have no end. 
There was indeed quite a broad road which ran along by 
the side of the wood, but the road which they had been 
following terminated abruptly. 

Laurence turned about the gray, who was only too 
glad to get back to more solid ground, but Germaine had 
a struggle with her horse. 

Ralph, the thoroughbred, disdained to obey like a 
common mare. He threw up his head, dilated his nos- 
trils and obstinately tried to take the bit between his 
teeth. 

Germaine resisted with all her strength, but her arms 
were not iron, and she began to be fatigued. 

“ Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you see no one com- 
ing?” she cried laughingly. “If Uncle Armand re- 
mains below there three minutes longer, Ralph will 
bolt.” 


60 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Bolt ! ” repeated Laurence. 

“ I mean run away. I have a great mind to calm him 
by a short gallop.” 

“ No, I implore you, don’t. We could not follow you. 
Besides, uncle is coming. I hear a noise.” 

“Yes, in the woods. Ralph hears it, too, and I can’t 
hold him.” 

The noise grew rapidly more distinct, and it was not 
the sound of a horse’s hoofs. It came from the midst of 
the woods, and the branches cracked under hurried foot- 
steps. 

The bay in fright shied and started off on the full 
run. Germaine, thinking it best to yield to him, did not 
attempt to restrain him. 

It was so quickly done that Laurence did not see what 
direction her sister had taken. 

At the same time a man darted out of the woods and 
leaped into the road. 

His appearance was so sudden that the peaceable gray 
started violently. 

Laurence, although she was not a very good horse- 
woman, remained in the saddle, but such was her fright 
that she closed her eyes. 

When she opened them again the man was straight 
before her, holding the mare by the reins, a man whom 
she recognized at once. 

Roch Ferrer, whom she had scarcely spoken to the 
night before, was not one to be forgotten ; and Roch 
Ferrer, bare-headed, his hair floating in the wind, was 
regarding Mademoiselle Daudierne with ardent eyes, 
which did not reassure her at all as to the intentions of 
this alarming gypsy. 

She soon saw that the encounter was one to be treated 
with audacity. 


■Oil, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


61 


“ Let go of my horse’s bridle,” she said, in as calm a 
tone as she could. 

Roch dropped the bridle, but he did not move back a 
step. 

“ Y ou have been following us ever since we entered 
the wood,” said Laurence. “ Why have you done so? ” 

“ It was you whom I was following. I followed you 
to see you. I follow you every time you go out.” 

“ If I had perceived that sooner ” 

“ Y ou would have forbidden me to do it, I know. 
That is why I hid myself.” 

“ But I forbid you now, and I warn you that M. 
Daudierne, my uncle, will be here in an instant.” 

“ I have already avoided him, and I shall avoid him 
again. But first I wish to speak to you.” 

Laurence trembled. She was alone with this young 
savage, whose excited air promised nothing good. Uncle 
Armand did not come, and Germaine, carried away by 
her horse, had disappeared. She must already be far 
away, as Ralph’s hurried galloping could no longer be 
heard. 

Laurence remained, therefore, at the mercy of Dr. 
Subligny’s protege, and the information which the good 
doctor had given as to the life this fellow led was not of 
a nature to make her feel at ease. 

Whether he had risked his life or not to save the Vig- 
nemals, Roch was nothing but a homeless wanderer, a 
rebel against the laws of society, who yielded only to 
his own passions. 

It was not the moment to lose one’s head, and the 
courageous girl had coolness enough to ask calmly : 

“ If you wish to speak to me why do you not come 
to La Germoniere?” 

“ Because at La Germoniere I should not be able to 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


G2 

speak to you freely. Your mother, your sister, or your 
uncle, would be there.” 

“ What do you want to tell me that they could not 
hear?” 

“ I want to tell you that I love you,” responded the 
gypsy boldly. 

This impudent declaration made the blood rush to 
Mademoiselle Daudierne's cheeks, and anger soon over- 
came her fear. It appeared to her monstrously ridicu- 
lous that this vagabond should use such language, and 
her womanly instinct told her at the same time that the 
danger was not imminent, as she had to deal with a sen- 
timental poacher. 

“ You love me? You! ” she cried, casting a glance of 
disdain at Roch. 

“ Madly,” he murmured, without lowering his eyes. 

“ You must be mad to speak to me like that. What 
is there in common between you and me, I should like 
to know ? And by what right do you insult me ? Y ou 
shall repent of it, I assure you.” 

“ No, for it was impossible for me not to love you, 
and I only ask you to listen to me. After you have 
heard me to the end you shall never see me again if you 
forbid me to approach you. But I must tell you all. 
For three years I have sought an opportunity to be with 
you alone.” 

“ Three years! What folly is this? I saw you yes- 
terday for the first time.” 

“ I have seen you every day.” 

“ Even when I was in Paris ?”asked Laurence ironically. 

“ No; when you were in Paris my life went out. But 
here I live only through you and for you. If you did 
not pass the summer and autumn at La Germoniere I 
should have left the country long ago.” 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


63 


“ I am greatly obliged to you for having remained,” 
said Laurence, with a disdainful smile, “ but I would 
like to know what you hope to gain by persecuting me 
in this way.” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ What do you wish of me, then ?” 

“ I wish to obey you, as a dog obeys its master.” 

“ I don’t want your obedience, and I see that you are 
more foolish than I thought. Remain there, please, and 
let me go to meet my uncle, who is not far off. I warn 
you.” 

“ He will not find me here, for I have nothing more 
to say to you. You know now that you can dispose of 
me as of a slave. Whatever you command of me to do, 
I will do; even if you should command me to kill some 
one.” 

“ That is a promise I shall never call upon you to 
keep,” said Laurence sarcastically. “ I have no desire for 
the death of any one.” 

w If you should desire mine, you would find me ready 
to die. My life belongs to you. I risked it yesterday to 
spare you a sorrow.” 

“ Me!” 

“ I detested those Vignemals, but I knew that they 
were crossing the river for the purpose of paying a visit 
at La Germoniere. If I had not thought that their death 
would afflict you, I should not have tried to save them.” 

This time, Mademoiselle Daudierne, although she had 
become thoroughly mistress of herself, could not imme- 
diately find a reply. Roch’s singular declaration sur- 
prised her very much, and touched her a little. 

“ Y ou would have done better to prevent them from 
entering the boat, since you were there when they em- 
barked.” 


64 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


“ That is true; I thought of you too late.” 

This response struck the young girl, and gave a dif- 
ferent direction to her ideas. The Beuvron accident ap- 
peared to her suddenly in a new light, and Roch Ferrer 
also. 

But she had no time to reflect on what she had just 
learned. Her uncle was heard approaching. She could 
not see him, because she had turned to the left on enter- 
ing the wood, but she heard the sound of his horse’s 
hoofs on the stones. 

“ Go!” said Laurence, quickly. “ I don’t wish M. 
Daudierne to find you here.” 

“ I am going,” said Roch, who had not ceased to de- 
vour her with his eyes. “ I am going, and I shall not 
return till you call for me. When you have an order for 
me, place in the evening a lamp in your window, and 
come to the bank of the Beuvron ; go to the place where 
the row of tamarinds ends.” 

“ How do you know which my window is?” asked 
Laurence, without seeming to notice the rendezvous 
Roch had indicated. 

“ It was there I saw you for the first time three years 
ago, and since that day I have passed many nights watch- 
ing it.” 

The noise approached. In a few seconds Uncle Ar- 
mand would turn the corner of the narrow road which 
divided the Tertre wood into two equal parts. 

Roch seized one of the young girl’s gloved hands, the 
hand which held the whip, covered it with kisses before 
she could draw it away, leaped the ditch with a bound, 
and disappeared among the trees. 

He was just in time. M. Daudierne appeared, spurr- 
ing his gray mare, who was blown by her rapid ascent. 

“ The scamp has slunk away. He saw that I was 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


65 


watching the road. Well, I shan’t pursue him. I am 
satisfied. I must warn our servants, however. Your 
mother is very wrong to allow vagabonds about her 
grounds, and so near the house. But what is the mat- 
ter? You are as pale as a ghost.” 

Laurence would undoubtedly have related her encoun- 
ter and the scene to which she- had been subjected, but 
M. Daudierne added : 

“And Germaine? What has become of her? ” 

It was quite natural that she should answer this ques- 
tion first, and consequently she was not obliged to ex- 
plain the real cause of her pallor. 

“ Germaine’s horse ran away with her,” she said. 
“ The animal was too impatient to wait, and she could 
not hold him.” 

“ The devil! Well, your sister rides well, and she is 
not afraid. But who knows where Ralph has carried 
her to? This charming country is full of precipices. I 
am astonished that you remained quietly here, while 
Germaine is in such danger.” 

u My mare is in no condition to follow Ralph.” 

“ Nor mine either, unfortunately. I ought to have 
foreseen what has happened. But still, if we can’t gal- 
lop, we can trot, and we shall end by overtaking this 
foolish girl, who thinks it is as easy to manage a 
thoroughbred as a cart-horse. I hope she will keep her 
seat, and that Ralph will calm down before he has gone 
far. In these cases, it is best to let a horse take his own 
course until he has had enough of it. The thing is now 
to know in what direction he has gone.” 

u It was done so quickly, and I was so terrified that I 
didn’t notice. It seems to me though that he took this 
road, to the right.” 

“ He certainly did not enter the wood. I should have 


66 


WAS IT A MURDER t 


met them. And it seems to me impossible that he has 
taken that rocky path up the steep hill in front of us. I 
think that the wisest thing for us to do is to follow the 
road which skirts the Tertre wood. Y our sister knows the 
road and she will probably find her way back to La 
Germoniere. She will not see her L^mon Rock to-day. 
It will be a good punishment for her. But if your 
mother should have any idea of what has happened, she 
will be terribly anxious. We must find Germaine. It 
would not do to return without her. Come, Laurence, 
a good blow of the whip to the gray, and forward. This 
delightful ride will be entirely taken up with pursuing 
people, but I prefer to chase my niece rather than that 
scoundrel, who has escaped me. I don’t think we shall 
fail to find her, and then I can scold her at my ease.” 

Uncle Armand flattered himself; for it was written 
that on this day nothing should succeed with him. When 
he started off with Laurence on the only practicable road 
which presented itself, Germaine was galloping despite 
herself across obstacles, before which the most daring 
fox-hunters of England would have recoiled. 

Although she felt that she was powerless to manage 
Ralph, she still retained all her coolness, and she under- 
stood that she must at all hazard prevent her horse from 
taking a road where there would be nothing to stop 
him. 

She knew the road which descended by very sudden 
turns to the brink of the river. She also understood the 
bay, which her extravagant brother had bought ex- 
pressly for the glory of risking his neck before the 
young gentlemen of Arcy. She knew that the horse 
jumped to perfection, that he was strong and swift, but 
that he was difficult to guide, and moreover inclined to 
run away on the least provocation. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


67 


He had more than mice almost broken Alfred’s neck, 
who had confided his adventures only to Germaine, and 
the sly girl, who was dying to ride the dangerous animal, 
had taken care not to speak of his faults. 

She had even declared to her mother and her uncle 
that Ralph was as gentle as a lamb, and she had finally 
attained her desire. 

She was beginning now to reflect upon the conse- 
quences of her rashness, but she was determined to hold 
out as long as she could, and the action she had taken at 
first was decidedly the best. 

Ralph, held by the nervous hands of this girl of 
twenty, could not turn to the right, and had dashed into 
a cross-road, where the ascent was so steep, that he must 
infallibly quiet down before long. 

Imprudent Germaine had only to take care not to be 
thrown, and this she thought she could do. 

All went well in the beginning. Ralph kept up a 
furious gallop, but it was evident that he could not long 
maintain it. However good a horse may be, his wind 
quickly fails him, when he is running up hill. 

Unfortunately this ascent was only the first step of a 
staircase hewn in the rock by nature. All the region 
seemed to have been at some time overturned by volca- 
nic eruptions. At the edge of the Tertre wood com- 
menced a series of acclivities rising one above the other, 
and divided in certain places by deep depressions of the 
earth. 

When Ralph reached the top of the first ascent Ger- 
maine saw a veritable abyss open before her. The de- 
clivity formed an angle of forty-five degrees with the 
horizon, and the furious bay, who had already taken 
breath, rushed blindly down it. 

Then for the first time Germaine recognized the dan- 


68 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


ger she ran. Her life depended on a false step of 
Ralph’s. If his foot should slip on one of the round 
pebbles in the road, the young girl would be cast vio- 
lently from her saddle, and dashed against the rocks. 

Instinctively she closed her eyes, for she could not re- 
sist at first a feeling of terror; but she did not let go the 
reins, and she did not give up hope, as many more skill- 
ful riders than she would have done in such a situa- 
tion. 

Germaine was spirited and courageous. She had the 
charm, the gaiety, the thoughtlessness of her age, but she 
could show more serious qualities than any one, even she 
herself, suspected. 

There was a strong side to this joyous and tender 
nature. If she had remained a child in character, it was 
because the occasion had not yet presented itself for her 
to prove what she was worth. This occasion, for a 
young girl, is love, and of this sentiment she could only 
speak from hearsay. 

She did not even have a very clear idea of it, having 
been brought up by a mother imbued with the principles 
of the higher middle class, who do not understand the 
utility of a preventive education. Mme. Daudierne had 
purposely omitted to warn her of the dangers a woman 
runs in life, and had left her to believe that marriage is 
only a platonic association of expediency and interest, 
into which it is necessary to enter because it is the cus- 
tom to do so. 

In this system there is no question of the passions 
which distract young hearts. It is an understood thing 
that a girl must seek to please only the men who are in 
a situation to marry her, and that she must never be 
tempted to misplace her affections. 

Germaine had never fallen in love, nor rebelled against 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


the ideas which had been inculcated in her since her in- 
fancy. The future which was pointed out to her seemed 
pleasant enough, and she was resigned in advance to 
marry suitably, although she w^as in no hurry to do 
so.. 

The existence which she led was by no means onerous 
to her. Her mother allowed her full liberty to do as she 
pleased, and she only took advantage of this permission 
to indulge in innocent pleasure. She was very fond of 
music, dancing, pretty dresses, in a word, society, and 
one might believe that she would never be fond of any- 
thing else. 

She sometimes betrayed her sentimental aspirations in 
words. She would make speeches which greatly 
amused her uncle Armand. She said : “ I would like 

to fall in love,” as she might have said, 11 1 would like to 
see Niagara Falls.” 

A moment afterwards, she thought no more of it. 

She was fond cf exercise of all sorts; and she was only 
happy at La Germoniere, where she could run about the 
park, while her sister worked quietly at her drawing un- 
der her mother’s eyes. 

The days when she rode horseback were veritably fete 
days. 

F or three months she had plotted to mount Ralph, 
and she did not even now regret the imprudence she had 
committed. 

Her pride was roused, and she was determined not to 
be afraid. 

The danger was nevertheless considerable, and it re- 
quired exceptional courage to face it without faltering. 

Ralph continued his mad gallop, and was descending 
at full speed a road close to a deep ravine. 

It was a miracle that he did not roll into this precipice, 


70 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


for the ground was covered with loose stones, and a 
stumble would have been fatal. 

Germaine, entirely recovered from her fright, thought 
only of guiding her horse as well as she could. 

With her body thrown well back and her hands 
tightly clasping the bridle, she remained firm in her sad- 
dle, and was commencing to hope that her adventure 
would have a fortunate termination. 

The descent was accomplished without an accident, 
but Ralph did not slacken his pace. 

Where and when would he stop? It was impossible 
to tell. It was not unpleasant for Germaine to feel that 
she was being borne onward to an unknown goal. She 
forgot the danger she was in, and her imagination flew 
off into dream land. She imagined that she was cross- 
ing a sombre forest, and that there would all at once ap- 
pear before her a mysterious castle, whose doors would 
fly open at her approach, a castle inhabited by the Prince 
Charming of fairy tales. 

It seemed to her that up to this time she had never 
really lived, and unknown horizons seemed opening be- 
fore her. 

The wind which blew against her cheeks awoke ideas 
which had slumbered in the depths of her young 
heart. 

She realized the romance of danger, and she felt a 
certain pity for her sister Laurence jogging along on a 
quiet mare. 

The motion intoxicated her. She was almost begin- 
ning to hope that the headlong career would never end. 
She had a mind to strike Ralph with her whip, to excite 
him the more, and to urge him on till he fell, even if his 
fall should crush her. 

The scarcely defined path over which he was gallop- 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


71 


ing ascended, descended, ascended again. But it made 
no difference; Ralph still continued at full speed. 

And if by accident at some turn in the path he should 
find himself face to face with a precipice, nothing could 
save him from plunging headlong over it. 

Germaine was in the clouds; she did not even think 
of admiring the landscape, which was wild and grand. 

She heard the murmur of a brook at the bottom of 
a ravine, but she could not see it. It was hidden under 
a thick mass of brambles and bushes. 

Beyond rose enormous blocks of granite which seemed 
to have been cast one upon the other by the hand of a 
Titan, and great pines stood out like silhouettes against 
this gray background. 

Right, left, before, behind, the view was shut out by 
lofty hills. 

One would have said that the gorge had no issue and 
that the world ended there. 

So, when after having dashed up a last ascent, Ger- 
maine suddenly came out upon a level plateau, she asked 
herself if she was still dreaming. 

No wall of rocks at her left, no gulf at her right, and 
before her a moor covered with heather extended to an 
isolated rock which was about three hundred metres 
off. 

It was only necessary to guide Ralph toward this im- 
passable obstacle, and this was not difficult, for a run- 
away horse always goes in a straight line. 

The animal, besides, was beginning to give out. He 
had run a race which would have wearied an Arabian 
stallion, and Germaine could now control him. 

By a happy chance the plain gently sloped upwaid 
to the odd rock. 

Ralph crossed the moor at full speed, but as he neared 


72 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


the rock his wind gave out completely, and he stopped 
short after a last effort. 

Germaine did not lose a second in leaping to the 
ground, and she had the presence of mind not to let go 
of the bridle, in case the bay should take a fancy to es- 
cape from her. 

It was a useless precaution, for he was in no condition 
to abuse his liberty. 

His strength was gone and he was trembling in all 
his limbs. One would have said that he repented his 
folly, and looking sadly at the young girl, he had the 
air of asking her pardon. 

Germaine could willingly have beaten him, but she 
was too thankful to have escaped safe and sound to ap- 
ply the merited punishment. 

She said to herself, too, that she was to blame in the 
first place. She ought to have foreseen that Ralph, 
never having had a woman on his back, would have 
tried to free himself when he was no longer flanked by 
two quiet mares. 

Germaine plucked a great handf ull of grass and rubbed 
him down with as much zeal and skill as any stable boy 
could have done. 

When this was finished she spoke to him: 

“ Do you know, you wicked thing, that you came 
near breaking my neck ?” she said, patting him with her 
little hand. “ I shall tell your master how you have be- 
haved.” 

The horse answered with a neigh of gratitude, which 
made her smile. 

“ And now,” she continued, “ how shall we get home, 
you naughty Ralph? I shan’t be so foolish as to get on 
your back again. I have not the slightest confidence in 
you. I have a great mind to leave you in this desert. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR f 


73 


The wolves will eat you up, and you have richly de- 
served such a fate. Come, I will begin by tying you 
up.” 

Ralph no doubt understood her words, for he gently 
allowed himself to be led by the bridle, which Germaine 
attached carefully to the trunk of an oak. 

“ Now,” she murmured, “ what shall I do? I don’t 
care to pass the night here, and I cannot abandon Ralph. 
My brother would make a fine scene if I should lose his 
thoroughbred. I shall have to lead him back to La 
Germoniere. That isn’t pleasant. Besides, I am not 
very sure of finding my way. I forgot to scatter peb- 
bles, like Hop-o’-My-Thumb, and I was so taken up 
with avoiding the precipices that I did not notice the 
road we came. I haven’t the least idea where I am.” 

She began to look about her, and soon saw that the 
ravine by which she had ridden was not very far from 
the great rock which overlooked the heath. This ravine 
made a turn almost at right angles, and stretched far be- 
yond the last ascent she had mounted. 

“ Impossible to go on that side,” thought Germaine. 

Her sweet face took a troubled expression, but sud- 
denly it brightened. 

u There is no need of being anxious,” she thought. 
“ Laurence saw Ralph run away. She has told my 
uncle of it, and they are now on their way to find me. 
The best thing I can do is to wait for them. What a 
sermon I shall have to listen to! But Heaven knows 
when they will arrive. Those two grays can only come 
very slowly over those horrible roads. I shall have 
plenty of time to contemplate the landscape. It is worth 
doing so, upon my word. That gray rock is like an old 
castle. It is all there, the towers, the battlements, all, 
even to a long crack from top to bottom. If it were 


74 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


— why, yes, this is the home of the fairies! Ralph was 
not so wicked after all. He has brought me to Lemon 
Rock, and it is just as I pictured it.” 

It did not take much to change the course of her ideas. 
She was seized with a wild desire to complete her acci- 
dental excursion by scaling the rock and verifying the 
legend current in the country. 

Everything invited her to try the experiment. The 
ascent to the famous rock was not very difficult. It stood 
on the top of a hill, which Germaine could easily climb. 
Ralph had lowered his head humbly, and did not seem 
to care to move. There was no noise to be heard, and 
that was a proof that no one had come to-day to consult 
the oracle. 

“ I should like to complete my pilgrimage,” she cried. 
“ And my uncle would prevent me if I should wait for 
him here. He will be angry, when he sees me up there, 
but I will explain to him that I climbed up only to see 
if he were coming to my aid. And I shall tell only half 
a story, for when once I am perched in that observatory, 
.1 am very sure that I shall discover him in the distance, 
riding along beside Laurence. Well, I am going to 
climb up there, any way.” 

And without more reflection, Mademoiselle Daudierne 
gathered up her long skirt in her hand, and bravely set out 
to assault the palace of the fairies, who marry the young 
girls daring enough to come and question them. 

It took about a quarter of an hour. Germaine was as 
agile and adroit as a chamois, and the brambles did not 
dishearten her. She tore her dress and pricked her fing- 
ers, but she only laughed, and her perseverance was re- 
warded, for when she reached the base of the enchanted 
rock, she saw spread out before her a marvelous pano- 
rama. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR t 


75 


At her feet stretched away into the distance an im- 
mense forest of venerable oaks, beyond which rose the 
towers of a chateau. 

“ It is the forest of La Breteche and the chateau of the 
Duke de Bretteville,” she said in a low voice. “ I did 
not think they were so near. Our park would have a 
sorry look beside those lordly domains. If they were 
mine, I would walk there day and night. But there! 
they are not mine, and the old duke will never have the 
idea of asking for my hand. Bah! it is all for the best, 
for I would not have him, even with his forest. I want 
a young husband, whether rich or poor, I don’t care, so 
long as I like him ; but I should not be sorry to know his 
name, if the fairies would condescend to tell it to me. I 
don’t believe they will, but I risk nothing by asking 
them to do so.” 

“ But,” she added, laughing, “ suppose they should 
take it into their heads to answer : Arthur ! I should be 
in a terrible fix, for I am sure I don’t want to marry the 
handsome Arthur du Pommeval.” 

Germaine interrupted her monologue to look if she 
could see any sign of her uncle and her sister. But, on 
turning toward the moor where she had left Ralph, she 
perceived that the nearest ridge was so high as to hide 
the road by which she had come. 

On that side, the horizon was limited, and it was neces- 
sary to give up all hope of discovering the two gray mares. 

This was a disappointment, and Mademoiselle Daud- 
ierne became anxious. She began to be worried at the 
situation in which her giddiness had thrown her. She 
had never before been alone, far from all habitation, be- 
yond reach of human aid, and this debut into the adven- 
turous life, which was so seductive to her, troubled her a 
little. 


76 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


The silence weighed upon her. She longed to hear 
the voice of a bird, but the birds did not sing in that de- 
serted place. 

“ They are afraid of waking the fairies,” thought 
Germaine. “ I will be braver than they, for I don’t 
wish to have come for nothing; but I must not delay. If 
night should come upon me, I should never see La Ger- 
moniere again. And day is falling already.” 

It was not dark, but the sky was clouding over, and a 
mist was rising from the damp valleys. 

“ Now, I could fancy myself in Scotland,” she mur- 
mured. “ A gray sky, rocks and heather. The witches 
in Macbeth would be well-suited here.” 

The crevice was close by ; Germaine had only to make 
a step to reach it, but she hesitated. Through thinking 
so much of the legend, she had ended by half believing 
it. 

The aspect of the place was well calculated, moreover, 
to inspire a young girl with superstitious fears. 

The rocks seems to have been cloven from summit to 
base by a giant’s sabre, and the fissure was large enough 
to allow a man to enter, but you could not see very far 
within, and only a little imagination was necessary to 
fancy that the opening led to a cavern inhabited by su- 
pernatural beings. 

Germaine was ashamed of being afraid, and approached 
the aperture. She was not very much surprised at find- 
ing there, placed upon a projection within the rock, with- 
ered flowers, faded ribbons, rings of polished brass, and 
little wooden crosses. 

Evidently these things had been left there by the sim- 
ple girls, who hoped to gain the protection of the fairies, 
or who wished to thank them for having granted their 
wishes. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


77 


The oracle was much consulted, and from this it might 
be concluded that it did not deceive those who had faith 
in it. 

Assuredly, this faith was lacking to Mademoiselle 
Daudierne, but curiosity took its place, and for nothing 
in the world would she have abandoned carrying her 
childishness to the point of crying out her name to the 
subterranean echoes. 

She placed her head in the opening, and exclaimed 
very distinctly : 

“ Germaine ! ” 

A puff of cold air struck her face and made her recoil. 

She was wondering where this icy breath came from, 
and was already laughing at the foolish idea which had 
impelled her to speak to the rock, when a sonorous voice 
answered her: 

“ Roger! ” 

This unexpected response cut short her gaiety, and 
alarmed her even more than it astonished her. 

There was nothing infernal about the voice; it was a 
pleasant, manly voice, and Germaine was neither foolish 
nor cowardly enough to believe for a single instant tha*- 
she had entered into a conversation with an evil spirit. 
There was evidently a jnan of flesh and blood there, a 
man who was amusing himself by answering the appeal 
imprudently made by an aspirant for early nuptials. 

And this joke in rather bad taste did not reassure Mad- 
emoiselle Daudierne as to the intentions of the false 
prophet. So her first thought was to take refuge in 
flight, but she did not have time to avoid the encounter. 
The unknown who had given her the reply suddenly 
appeared, and there was nothing terrifying in the appar- 
ition. 

He was a tall fellow, handsomely formed and cor- 


78 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


rectly dressed, although he had not the air of those Beau 
Brummels represented in tailors’ fashion plates. 

He was in sportsman’s dress, but he had no gun; and 
when he perceived Germaine, he politely raised his hat. 

She saw then that he had brown hair, cut very short, 
and long silky blond mustaches, that his complexion was 
bronzed by life in the open air, and that his forehead 
was marked by a scar, which, however, did not disfigure 
his marfly and sympathetic face. 

He evidently had not expected to find behind the 
Lemon Rock a young lady dressed in a riding-habit, for 
he appeared as much astonished as Germaine. But there 
was nothing awkward or countryfied in his embarrass- 
ment. 

41 Pardon me, Mademoiselle, for having alarmed you,” 
he exclaimed. “ I was there on the other side of the 
rock, when you spoke, and I could not resist the tempta- 
tion of answering. I thought I had to do with some 
credulous peasant girl and I amused myself by playing 
the sorcerer. I have made a great mistake, and I beg 
you to forget my involuntary rudeness.” 

This was said in such a frank and gentlemanly way 
that Germaine no longer felt any fear. 

“ I was alarmed, I acknowledge,” she said, “ but I 
have no right to be angry at you, for I yielded to a silly 
fancy in interrogating the oracle, and I have well de- 
served being made fun of. It is the legend which is to 
blame.” 

“ Since you know the legend, Mademoiselle, I need 
not enter into explanations which would make you 
smile; it is enough for me that you do not accuse me of 
having premeditated this absurd scene. I could not have 
imagined, when I left Bretteville, that I should meet 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


79 


“ Do you live at the Chateau de Bretteville? ” asked 
Germaine quickly. 

w I have been there for only a few days, Mademois- 
elle, and I shan’t remain much longer.” 

“ I suppose the Duke is a relation of yours ? ” 

“ No, Mademoiselle, I was the comrade and friend of 
his son, who was killed by my side in Africa.” 

“ You are an officer then, Monsieur? ” 

“ Well, yes; but I was only promoted to a sub-lieut- 
enancy three months ago, and it seems to me that I am 
still a quartermaster. You have just had a proof of this, 
Mademoiselle, for, out of respect to my new epaulettes, 
I should not have descended to a joke which savors of 
the barracks. Will you excuse me now, if I allow my- 
self to ask to what fortunate chance I owe the pleasure 
of introducing myself, after an unexpected encoun- 
ter? ” 

Germaine saw that it was time to give her name, and 
even to explain her presence at the foot of Lemon Rock, 
under penalty of being taken for what she was not. 

u I live quite near here, at La Germoniere.” 

“ The property which was bought ten years ago by 
Madame Daudierne? ” 

“ You know that? ” cried Germaine in astonishment. 

“ I was born in this country, Mademoiselle. It is true 
that I left it when I was very young, and I did not re- 
turn for a long time. But I was still here when La 
Germoniere became the property of — ” 

“ Of my mother, Monsieur. We have lived there all 
summer, and yet I have never been here before. To- 
day, my uncle, my sister and myself started for a ride. 
Unfortunately, Ralph ran away with me, and carried me 
to the foot of this rock, which stopped him.” 

“ And great Heavens, over what a road! There is 


80 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


scarcely a path on this side fit for goats. And your 
horse did not fall with you into the ravine ? ” 

“ Certainly not, since I am here,” answered Germaine, 
smiling. “ I have tied him below there, on the moor, 
and there are no bones broken. Only, he is tired out, 
and I am afraid he is not able to carry me home. So I 
resolved to wait here for my uncle and sister, who are 
seeking me without doubt, and who will not be long in 
joining me.” 

Germaine dwelt upon these last words. She wanted 
to show that she had not come out alone, and that some 
one was coming to her aid. 

“ I will not allow myself, Mademoiselle, to dissuade 
you from waiting for them,” said the young man, who 
thoroughly understood her meaning. “ But I fear that 
you will have to wait for a long time. Your uncle will 
certainly not be foolish enough to expose himself to the 
dangers which you have braved.” 

“Oh! quite in spite of myself,” laughed Germaine. 
“ It was Ralph who braved them. He is a thorough- 
bred, and is afraid of nothing.” 

“ There is another road to Lemon Rock, much easier, 
but much longer. Your uncle will take that.” 

“ I don’t think he knows it.” 

“ However that may be, Mademoiselle, I assure you 
that you will risk your life if you attempt to return by 
the way you came. And, moreover, to remain here 
would be imprudent. Night comes on early at this sea- 
son of the year, and if you should be overtaken yonder 
by one of those storms which have their origin, as our 
peasants pretend, in the caverns of this rock, you would 
have great difficulty in reaching La Germoniere.” 

“ What must I do, then ? ” asked Germaine, in alarm. 

She felt that the unknown spoke the truth, but she 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


81 


suspected also that he might have some hidden reason 
for his words. 

She raised her eyes and reassured herself by a long 
look at him ; loyalty was depicted on his face. 

He had doubtless divined what she feared, for he said 
gently : 

“ You are wrong to distrust me, Mademoiselle. I think 
only of aiding you to escape from a painful situation, 
and I would limit myself to indicating to you the road 
you must follow to reach home safely, if I thought that 
you would not go astray ; but this road has many turn- 
ings,, and you might take the wrong one. I venture, 
then, to offer you my services as a guide, and I promise 
upon my honor to leave you as soon as my presence is 
no longer useful to you.” 

“ I thank you, Monsieur,” faltered Germaine, moved, 
and still more perplexed, “ but I — I cannot abandon my 
horse.” 

“ No, certainly not, and I hope that he will carry you 
to La Germoniere. The road which runs along the edge 
of the Bretteville woods is excellent, and if you will 
follow my advice you will not walk. I will escort 
you on foot, and, if necessary, help you to manage 
Ralph.” 

“ You know my horse’s name?” 

“ You just told it to me, Mademoiselle, and I can see 
from here that Ralph is a fine horse,” said the young 
man, pointing to the indefatigable bay, who was already 
snorting and stamping his foot. “ He wants to be off.” 

“ Yes, he is a fine animal, and I am very happy that 
I have not injured him. I should be less satisfied, how- 
ever, if I thought he would again play me the trick 
of running away with me,” added Germaine, gaily. 

“ I should be there to prevent that, and I am going 

6 


82 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


now to lead him here,” said the young man, hurrying 
away to the place where Ralph was tied. 

He was already some distance off before Mademoiselle 
Daudierne could raise any objections to the arrangement 
which he had proposed. 

She remained alone near the magic rock, embarrassed 
enough and worried at the turn which the adventure 
had taken, a little more romantic than she desired, but in 
reality very fortunate, for the weather was very threat- 
ening and the day was far advanced. 

“ After all,” she thought, “ it will not be my fault if I 
return escorted by a chance acquaintance. My uncle 
and my sister have evidently lost all trace of me. I can- 
not surely push prudery to such an extent as to pass the 
night on these hills. Besides, I have to do with a man 
who is well born and well bred. The guest of the Duke 
de Bretteville can only belong to the highest society. 
I will present him to my mother on our arrival home, 
and it will be all right. Uncle Armand will perhaps 
owe me a debt of gratitude, for I shall have furnished 
him with a pretext for calling at the chateau, and the old 
duke will invite him to hunt in his forest.” 

Germaine did not say to herself that the young officer 
had made a deep impression upon her, but that impres- 
sion influenced her greatly in the decision which she had 
taken. 

He soon came up, leading by the bridle Ralph, who 
followed him quietly. Horses have a sure instinct, and 
they recognize at once those who are their friends. 

“ Now that I have examined him closer,” said the 
obliging stranger, “ I am sure, Mademoiselle, that he will 
not stumble, and that he will not run away again. His 
legs are in excellent condition, and the fatigue has calmed 
him. He is perfectly able to do what you require of 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


83 


him to-day. I think, however, that to-morrow he will 
need rest and care, for — ” 

“ Oh ! I will see that he is treated well,” interrupted 
Mademoiselle Daudierne. “ He belongs to my brother, 
but I have always been as fond of him as if he were 
mine, and I am now still more fond of him since — since 
he carried me so well over that dangerous road.” 

Germaine succeeded in this way indifferently well in 
covering up her embarrassment at being just on the point 
of making a thoughtless remark, for she was above all 
grateful to Ralph for having brought her to Lemon 
Rock, and she was confused at having so nearly betrayed 
her thoughts. 

The young man understood, perhaps, but he had the 
discretion not to let it appear, and he answered with 
quite a military directness: 

“ Since you are willing, Mademoiselle, to place me in 
command, I beg you to descend this hill on foot. It 
would not be prudent to do so on horseback. I will lead 
Ralph.” 

He regulated the order and march of the expedition 
as if it were quite arranged that he was to accompany 
her, and yet Germaine had not yet consented, but he took 
her silence for a tacit consent, and he was not wrong in 
doing so. 

“You will think me very curious,” she said hesitat- 
ingly, “ but I would like to know how you could have 
heard my name; I spoke so low.” 

“ It is very simple, Mademoiselle. The hollow in 
which you spoke that charming name is not very deep, 
but it is cut at right angles by a cleft which opens on 
one of the other sides of the rock. I was leaning close 
by the orifice; you could not see me, nor could I see you, 
and I abused the situation to answer as the peasant boys 


84 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


do when they are on the watch for their sweethearts. 
But I must introduce myself in a more serious and more 
becoming fashion — Roger Pontac, sub-lieutenant in the 
Ninth Hussars.” 

“Roger Pontac!” repeated Germaine. 

“ Yes, Mademoiselle. My name assuredly can scarcely 
possess any interest for you,* and can recall nothing to 
you, as I have not the honor to be known by you.” 

“ It seems to me, however, that I have heard that name 
spoken quite recently.” 

“ I should be very proud not to be utterly unknown 
to you, but I doubt if there is any one in the country 
who still remembers me, and if I have given you my 
name it is simply in order to conform to custom. I 
should have done so in the first place, but you are not 
English, and I hope that you will excuse me.” 

“ I excuse you all the more readily, because you did 
give me your name in the first place, at least, half,” said 
the young girl, laughing. “ Before I saw you I knew 
that you were called Roger, and at the foot of L^mon 
Rock, I have not the right to exact more.” 

“ Y ou make me remember how impertinent I was, 
Mademoiselle, and I am afraid I shall never rise in your 
estimation.” 

“ Oh ! I am not angry with you at all — and the proof 
of it is that I have allowed you to conduct me home.” 

“ This road will take you there, Mademoiselle, and you 
can already see that it is very different from the frightful 
way by which you came. ” 

Ralph, led by Lieutenant Pontac, stepped upon a mac- 
adamized road, which Mademoiselle Daudierne had not 
perceived from the height of the eminence which served 
as a pedestal for the fairies’ rock. 

In a straight line, La Germoniere was not far from 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


85 


Lemon Rock, but it would take an hour to reach there 
by the road. 

“ W e have no time to lose, for the sky is growing 
darker and darker,” said the young officer. “ Permit 
me, Mademoiselle, to aid you to mount.” 

Mademoiselle Daudierne could not refuse, and she 
placed, without further words, her little foot in the hand 
which, ^.^er Pontac held out to her. 

Rtjg'W' raised his head, when he felt the reins gathered 
up, but he showed no intention of recommencing the 
folly, which had nearly cost Germaine so dear. One 
would have said that the intelligent animal sought to 
make her understand that he had recovered from his 
fatigue, but that he would obey her in the most docile 
manner. . 

“ Really, Monsieur,” she said, “ I am ashamed to give 
you so much trouble. My horse has a very long step, 
and it will tire you to keep up with him.” 

“ Oh ! don’t fear that, Mademoiselle. I have always 
served in the cavalry, but my childhood was passed in 
running about our woods and hills, and I could easily 
walk ten leagues to have the happiness of escorting 
you.” 

u Indeed,” murmured Germaine, without noticing the 
compliment, “ you did tell me that you came from the 
province where we pass our summers — from Arcy, doubt- 
less.” 

“ No, Mademoiselle, I was born on a iy'cci which be- 
longs to the Duke de Bretteville, a farm which my father 
hired. And I was twelve years old when they sent me 
to the college at Paris.” 

Germaine did not expect to hear that her knight was 
the son of a peasant, for he had the air and manners of a 
gentleman. But this discovery did not trouble her. She 


8G 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


would have been almost sorry had he been of noble 
birth. Whence came this sentiment? She could not 
have told, herself. Perhaps she thought that her mother 
and her uncle would willingly receive a well-bred man, 
who had gained his epaulettes by his merit alone, while 
they would think themselves obliged to hold aloof from 
a representative of the privileged class. 

Madame Daudierne kept within her own circle in life, 
and Uncle Armand did not seek country squires. If he 
accepted M. du Pommeval, it was because in reality 
Arthur belonged to the middle classes, his father having 
taken his name from his estate. 

“ Y ou see, Mademoiselle, that Ralph does not distance 
me,” said Lieutenant Pontac, gaily. “ That is the ad- 
vantage of having exercised one’s legs in one’s youth. 
Of course, I would rather accompany you on horseback, 
but I am very glad that I am a good walker, since you 
permit me to act as your guide.” 

“ And I, Monsieur,” said Germaine, quickly. “ I 
hope that we shall now often have the pleasure of seeing 
you at La Germoniere. We are neighbors, since you are 
staying at the Chateau de Bretteville, and my mother will 
be anxious to thank you — ” 

“ Oh! Mademoiselle, it is I who ought to thank you 
for having trusted yourself to me.” 

“ You will come, will you not? ” asked the young girl, 
astonished at this evasive response^ 

“ I do notx^are to promise,” said Roger Pontac, visi- 
bly embarrassed. » , 

“Why?” ( 

“ But — Because I must rejoin my regiment, which is in 
Africa. I obtained a month’s absence, and I have so little 
time left.” 

“ But you have a few days at least.” 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


87 


u And then — I have determined to visit no one. It is 
ten years since I went away; but if I show myself, many 
people would recognize me. They would know that I 
was at the Chateau de Bretteville, and would blame me 
for not coming to see them.” 

“ Do you care so much as that for displeasing the in- 
habitants of Arcy.” 

“ I am indifferent enough as to their opinion. But 
I have relatives — not in the city, it is true — relatives 
whom I don’t care to see and whom I do not wish to 
wound ; it is for that reason that I keep my incognito — 
and I can not keep it except by confining myself to the 
chateau; the duke’s domestics came from Paris, and they 
do not know that I belong to this country.” 

“ Ours came from Paris, also, and I do not think that 
your countrymen spy upon the visitors who present 
themselves at La Germoniere.” 

“ Certainly not. But the relatives of whom I spoke 
are neighbors of yours.” 

“ Really?” 

“ And very near neighbors. F ougeray is only two 
kilometres from your mother’s house.” 

“Fougeray? But that is Madame Vignemal’s Cha- 
teau.” 

“ Precisely, Mademoiselle. And Madame Vignemal is 
my cousin.” 

u Great Heavens!” cried Germaine, much moved and 
still more troubled. 

“That astonishes you, Mademoiselle,” said Pontac, 
smiling, “ and there is some reason for your being aston- 
ished, for Madame Vignemal is very rich, and I possess 
only my pay. But it is precisely because I have nothing, 
that I do not desire to renew my relations with her. We 
quarreled once, and I believe she thinks me dead. If I 


88 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


tried to make my peace with her, I might be accused of 
coveting her wealth for which I care nothing, and I do 
not wish to do anything to give rise to unjust suspicions.” 

The sad news which she could tell Lieutenant Pontac 
was upon Germaine’s lips, but she did not dare to speak. 
How could she tell this young man that his cousin had 
perished by an accident, and that this cousin, not liking 
her relatives, had left all her fortune to her husband ? 

6i What a sad remembrance he would have of our 
meeting, if I should make myself the bearer of ill tid- 
ings! ” she thought. “No, no, I will not tell him that 
Madame Vignemal is dead, and that she has disinherited 
him. He will know it only too soon, for the news of 
the catastrophe will soon reach the Duke de Bretteville’s 
chateau.” 

“ It will cost me much, I assure you, not to see you 
again,” said Roger, in a voice that betrayed strong emo- 
tion, “ but I shall never forget that I have seen you, and 
I shall not say that I will never go again to Lemon 
Rock.” 

“ But, I can assure you that you will not meet me 
there,” murmured Mademoiselle Daudierne. “ I shall be 
obliged to relate my adventures, and Heaven knows 
when I shall be allowed to ride again. They will wish 
to know above all why you hold yourself aloof, and the 
reason that you give me will not be taken in earnest by 
my uncle. He is capable of imagining that I do not tell 
him all the truth.” 

The officer trembled. Germaine had startled him by 
the thought that it could be supposed she was comprom- 
ised. 

“ If you exact it, Mademoiselle,” he said after a pause, 
Cl I will present myself at La Germoniere before return- 
ing to Africa.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


89 


“ Why not to-day? If you enter the house with me, 
I shall not be at all embarrassed to explain what has 
happened to me; while your absence will appear singu- 
lar. Isn’t it better to act frankly? Above all, when one 
is not to blame? You have done what any gentleman 
would have done in such a case, and unless you have 
motives of which I am ignorant — ” 

“ I have one. And I am surprised that you have not 
guessed it, for you know now who I am.” 

“ I know that you are an officer in the army which is 
fighting against the Arabs, and that the Duke de Brette- 
ville honors you with his friendship. That is amply 
sufficient to open to you the doors of our house.” 

~ Roger Pontac was silent, to the great astonishment of 
Mademoiselle Daudierne, and the conversation ceased 
abruptly. 

They had made considerable progress while talking, 
and they had come to a place where the road turned to 
the right, leading away from the forest. 

“ Mademoiselle,” said the young man suddenly, “ when 
we have passed that ridge of rocks, you will perceive 
the trees of La Germoniere, and you will be no longer 
in danger of going astray. The road passes your garden 
gate.” 

“ Y ou are going to leave me ! ” exclaimed Ger- 
maine. 

“ I must. You will not oppose my doing so, when 
you have heard my confession.” 

“ Your — confession? ” 

“ Have you not asked me to tell you why I was con- 
demned not to see you again ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Well; I would have preferred not to answer, but I 
can not lie. I shall avoid you because Lieutenant Pon- 


90 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


tac, who has neither rank, nor family, nor fortune, can 
not marry Mademoiselle Daudierne.” 

“ I — I do not understand,” faltered Germaine, with a 
vivid blush. 

“ If I should go to your mother’s house, I should not 
have the courage not to appear there again, and if I 
should commit that imprudence, I should subject myself 
to a bitter sorrow.” 

“ But, Monsieur, there is no question of marrying me, 
and I declare that I understand less and less.” 

“ What! You do not understand that I am afraid of 
falling in love with you,” said Roger, lowering his 
voice. 

At this avowal, which she had foreseen perhaps, Ger- 
maine became very pale, and gathered up the reins, 
which she had allowed to fall upon Ralph’s neck. She 
felt now that the danger of losing her way was not the 
only one she ran, and her first thought was to cut short 
an interview, which was becoming much too serious. 

“ Have no fear, Mademoiselle,” continued Lieutenant 
Pontac, in a different tone. “ I have said &11 ; I have 
only now to ask your pardon for my brutal frankness — 
and also for my prudence. You will have a bad opinion 
of me, and you certainly did not imagine that there ex- 
isted an officer of the hussars wise enough to guard him- 
self against an affair of the heart. I am false to all the 
traditions of my profession, but happily I am an excep- 
tion.” 

This time Germaine asked herself if the officer was 
simply trifling with her, but she had only to glance at 
his face to abandon that idea. Roger Pontac was try- 
ing to turn his declaration into a jest, but his eyes gave 
the lie to his smile. 

Then only she divined that his careless air was affected 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


91 


to reassure her, and so much delicacy touched her 
deeply. 

“ He would love me, as I would wish to be loved,” 
she thought. 

And she dropped the reins again. 

“ I told you that if you forced me to speak my 
thoughts, you would dismiss me after having heard 
them,” said Roger gaily. “ The time has come for me 
to undergo the fate I foresaw; and you will see, Mad- 
emoiselle, that I am not wanting in courage, for I shall 
depart without a murmur.” 

“ And without abandoning your resolution never to 
enter La Germoniere,” exclaimed Mademoiselle Daud- 
ierne. “ Acknowledge, Monsieur, that this is pure 
childishness, and that you attach too much importance to 
a very simple incident. You have taken the trou- 
ble to escort me home. Without you, I should have 
been obliged to pass the night in the open air. It 
is quite natural that a service rendered to me should 
open relationship between you and my family. But 
it is a very long distance between that and the con- 
sequences which alarm you. And if you persist in 
your determination, you will wound me, I assure you, 
for I shall end by believing that I have inspired you 
with an invincible antipathy, — and I have for you quite 
opposite sentiments. I hope that I also am frank,” she 
added gaily. “ Ah ! you imagine that because our meet- 
ing was so romantic, it must end like a novel! No, no, 
I have no wish to quarrel with the fairies of Lemon 
Rock. They would play me some evil trick, if I should 
accept the excuses you give me. You will come, Mon- 
sieur, and will see that your fears are vain, I warn you; 
besides, that, if you do not come, my uncle will seek you 
at Bretteville, I mean in order to thank you, and then 


92 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


you will be obliged to return his call. You will be cor- 
dially received, and you will go, as you came, heart- 
free.” 

“ I will try,” murmured Pontac, vanquished. “ I would 
give my life for you; I can well sacrifice for you my 
peace of mind.” 

“ Then I rely upon you, and I allow you to leave me 
here. It is perhaps better that you should not present 
yourself this evening. It would look as if you were ask- 
ing for a reward for having restored the lost sheep. But, 
from to-morrow, I shall lcok for you every day.” 

The officer of the hussars bowed without responding, 
and Germaine rode off, without turning her head. 

She was delighted at having retired gracefully from 
such a false position, but she feared that she had said too 
much, and moreover she thought much more than she 
said. 


CHAPTER III. 


Arcy-sur-Beuvron has always been the most quiet of 
country towns. When Uncle Armand came there to set- 
tle, he did his best to create an excitement, but in this he 
only half succeeded. 

Once in a while the young folks show some signs of 
agitation, but the old inhabitants are imperturbable. F or- 
tified as she is behind the bulwark of precedent, the old 
town fights a valiant fight against all innovations. Her 
good people persist in dining at mid day ; and they read 
the newspapers only as sources for faultfinding and gen- 
eral scandal. They love to laugh at the Parisians, and 
to assume a knowledge of worldly matters. To speak 
plainly, their care for literature or politics is equally in- 
tense with the affection of a herring for a sunflower. 
Their shibboleth is — Economy. In their opinion, su- 
preme happiness, the very be-all and end-all of existence, 
is to — die rich. Their only talk, their only thought, is 
money. They pass their time in hoarding up, and cal- 
culating upon other people’s money. They set a value 
upon inheritances, figure up incomes, manage disburse- 
ments, and he who does not hoard is attaint and convict 
of irremediable crime. Such an one they say is ruining 
himself, and ruined men are the victims of public dis- 
dain. To mortgage lands, though with the intent to 
purchase others, is destruction. Debt means theft, in the 
code of the good citizens' of Arcy. Their only excuse is 
that they have nothing to do but talk scandal and save 
money. In short, it is a town of bondholders, who des- 
pise business and are strangers to industry. 

- 93 - 


94 


WAS IT A MUIiDER? 


You should see the principal thoroughfare, the Rue 
Nationale, which though it has changed names three 
or four times in a half century has not altered in appear- 
ance. Slowly, quietly and sedately the people pass. 
There is no sign of hurry nor thought of change. To 
count the flagstones seems their whole duty. The shop- 
keepers dawdle and yawn before their open shops. The 
very houses have the air of being bored. No one troubles 
himself about the time of day. If the town clock were 
to stop, the citizens of Arcy would never know the dif- 
ference. 

But let some striking piece of news, above all, news of 
a local character, fall upon its habitual quiescence, and 
Arcy rouses as briskly from its torpor as will an anthill 
startled by an unexpected pebble. Then the tobacco- 
shop, the apothecary’s, and every point of observation is 
occupied by curious souls whose sole conversation and 
observation is directed toward and fixed upon the com- 
ings and goings of the chief actors in the day’s disclos- 
ure. Should it be trouble between man and wife, they 
wait for the husband to pass, and try to judge from his 
appearance how he takes it ; and when the case demands 
legal interference, the officers of the law are zealously 
watched. 

The third day after the accident of the Beuvron ferry, 
all the population of this sleepy precinct was in a com- 
motion. The Reading-room was deserted and the ency- 
clopedias kept house in grand style. A few theorists 
held that the tragical death of the Vignemals was only 
the result of an accident; but the majority were inter- 
ested in the consequences of this sudden visitation of 
Death and its relation to the descent of the property. It 
was known that the deceased had made their wills, and 
also to what lawyer the documents had been entrusted ; 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


95 


and there were those skilled in law who asserted that 
Arthur du Pommeval, according to the provisions of 
Article 722 of the Civil Code would be the wealthy heir 
of his aunt-by-marriage. 

It will be easily understood that his slightest move- 
ments were watched and that his neighbors were not 
backward in wishing to compliment him upon his good 
fortune. But M. du Pommeval had a proper respect for 
appearances and behaved like a well-bred nephew. To 
show his sorrow, he refrained not only from making his 
appearance in public, but even from receiving his friends 
at the elegant villa which he occupied in the suburbs of 
the town. One notable exception must be made in the 
visit he made in the morning to Dr. Subligny, a very 
natural visit, since Dr. Subligny had been called the pre- 
vious evening to authenticate the double death, the bodies 
having been recovered, near noon, at some distance from 
La Germoniere. But no one had had conversation with 
the young heir, who within forty -eight hours had be- 
come the most important person in the neighborhood, 
and no 011c had seen the broad brimmed hat of the doctor, 
who remained at home, most likely to write out his med- 
ical report. 

The good doctor lived in the quietest street of Arcy, 
and his lodgings suited him. His house, purchased after 
ten years’ practice, was not a large one, but it answered 
all his purposes, for he was not a man to give entertain- 
ments, and his only servant was an old canteniere of his 
regiment, who was a fine cook, — Dr. Subligny was some- 
thing of an epicure — and who could also groom a horse. 
His garden, for all the houses in Arcy have a garden, 
was under the care of a man, who at daily wages showed 
great success in the cultivation of flowers and vegetables, 
the latter more particularly, for with our ex-surgeon- 


96 


WAS IT A MURDER t 


major of the ist African Chasseurs, the useful was never 
sacrificed to the esthetic. 

If the busy bodies could have penetrated at about two 
o’clock that day into the private office of the doctor they 
might have culled enough information to satisfy not only 
public rumor, but also that hearthside gossip which re- 
joices in saying evil of one’s neighbor. 

This office was no luxurious apartment, and no catch- 
trap Parisian doctor would have cared to receive his 
patients there, but the advice of Dr. Subligny was for 
all that equal in value to the consultations of the highest 
priced physicians. It was even worth more, for he 
always examined his patients and often cured them. The 
sideboard was of black walnut, but unadorned with a dis- 
play of plate to show forth the generosity of patients. 
The leathern arm chair had seen twenty years of service 
like its master, and the black marble clock dated from 
the reign of Louis Philippe. Some shelves of un- 
painted wood, loaded with books, and four cane-bot- 
tomed chairs littered with papers completed the inven- 
tory of his furniture. 

No classical engravings of Hippocrates refusing the 
gifts of Artaxerxes adorned his cedar panels. Never 
was better exemplified the saying that “ Good wine 
needs no bush,” for Dr. Subligny was the most disinter- 
ested of physicians. He attended the poor without fee, 
and was content with the contributions of the rich. 

Since his settling among them, all the people of Arcy 
had called upon him, and were well satisfied, but it was 
not only as a doctor that they consulted him. He had 
the reputation of a wise man, and was often consulted 
upon matters with which medical lore had nothing to 
do. And at this very time to which we allude it was 
no invalid with whom he was closeted. 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


97 


F ace to face with him sat a man who was the very 
picture of health. His round figure, full face and un- 
troubled expression would have done justice to a Bishop. 
But a magistrate sometimes carries the likeness of a pre- 
late, and this visitor was in truth the president of the tri- 
bunal of Arcy, an individual to the manor born, and 
whose ideas of ambition looked no farther. Such judges 
are rare, and will soon be only known in the pages of 
history. Comfortably rich, and connected with the best 
families of the vicinity, this model judge was undoubt- 
edly the most important man in the town. He seemed 
to have been created for the express purpose of working 
justice to his fellow-citizens. He knew every one with- 
out exception ; he knew their records and merits, and no 
legal proceedings was so involved but that his good sense 
relieved him from the embarassment of a false judg- 
ment. He thought very highly of Dr. Subligny ; indeed, 
his estimation of that gentleman’s abilities must have 
been remarkable, for he had taken the trouble to seek 
his advice upon a most delicate subject. 

“ So, my dear doctor,” said he after a short introduct- 
ory conversation, “ you are sure that the death of these 
poor Vignemals is entirely owing to protracted immer- 
sion ? ” 

“ Absolutely sure, my dear president,” replied the mil- 
itary surgeon in a positive tone. “ In the first place, the 
bodies showed no signs of violence. Madame Vignemal 
it is true had certain scratches and bruises, but she was 
found with her legs entangled in the roots of a willow, 
which fact will account for the superficial injuries I have 
mentioned. Besides, I made last night at Fougeray the 
autopsy of the two corpses, and I am in a position to 
state that the man and woman were living when they fell 
into the water. They were drowned, out and out. I 

7 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


cannot understand why the police persisted in my per- 
forming a medico-legal operation which seemed to me 
superfluous.” 

“ I know why? ” 

“ Y ou mean that there was too much zeal, as is com- 
mon among green hands.” 

“ True enough; but there is something more. There 
is a suspicion that a crime has been committed.” 

“ By that lad who is gypseying on the F ougeray 
estate. The officer did not conceal his opinion from me, 
but he is mistaken all the same. I will answer for Roch 
F errer.” 

“ Between ourselves, he is a vagabond who does not 
amount to much.” 

“ I will grant that, although he has good qualities of 
which you know nothing. But it is impossible to accuse 
him. He has a witness who was present when they went 
on board, a witness, too, beyond suspicion, for he hates 
Roch, and that witness is the Vignemals’ servant. He 
has declared that at the time his master and mistress 
went on board the ferry-boat there was no one on the 
Beuvron bank.” 

“ That is, he saw no one. But your Bohemian was 
there, hidden in the bushes. He admits it.” 

“ I would have you take notice, my dear President, 
that after having examined and cross-examined him in 
every possible way, your prosecuting officer gave him 
his liberty, and I know it was not because he did not 
want to send him to prison. I will say further, that Roch 
as soon as he knew the court was sitting came of his own 
accord to Fougeray, and he could very easily have 
avoided the inquest, for he has no domicile, and can walk 
his fifteen leagues a day without trouble.” 

“ Oh! if he had tried to escape, the police would have 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


99 


had him. His looks would cause his arrest anywhere, 
and his readiness to show himself may perhaps be only a 
matter of cunning calculation.” 

“ I see that you are prejudiced against this lad; and I 
am not engaged to defend him. At the same time I have 
a perfect right to ask you by what right you attribute 
criminal actions to him on suspicion, alone. There is an 
old Latin formula which expresses my idea perfectly: 

whoever commits a crime, has some interest in com- 
mitting it;” and I am unable to see what advantage Roch 
Ferrer could derive from the death of the Vignemals.” 

“ He would not have benefited directly, but might 
have done so through others. Madame Vignemal had 
poor relatives with whom this Bohemian was doubtless 
acquainted, since they are peasants in the neighborhood 
of Arcy.” 

“ And you fancy that some one of these people have 

paid poor Roch, to Oh ! I will swear that he was 

charged with no such commission for the sake of hire. 
He despises money. Besides, people like that have not 
got it to give. You surely would not say that he gave 
the fatal blow merely to do a friend a good turn. Oh! 
No! the accusation kills itself.” 

“ But, my dear doctor, I am not accusing your protege. 
I am trying to clear my mind in talking with you. The 
question of the succession is sure to come up, and I shall 
be called upon to decide it. Now, if a criminal action 
should precede the civil action, the situation of affairs 
would be wonderfully changed.” 

“ There will be no criminal action. There can be 
none, for the death of the two victims was purely acci- 
dental. I have stated as much; there is my report. 
And I do not believe there is any ground for a civil ac- 
tion. The Code embraces the case: Article 722.” 


100 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ You cite an article of the Code,” said the president, 
with a laugh. “ Are you a doctor of law as well? I 
should not have thought it.” 

“ I am satisfied with being a doctor of medicine, but I 
have read the law which governs the presumption of 
survival. I read this law because I am interested in 
young Du Pommeval, and I see that according to its 
provisions, he will inherit the whole of the Vignemal 
fortune.” 

“ You have read the law, my good friend, but your in- 
terpretation of it is faulty. It does not apply to testa- 
mentary devises, and since Vignemal was only heir by 
his wife’s will ” 

“ The Devil! are you sure about that? ” 

“ Perfectly sure. The question has been determined 
in a number of decisions. The latest is in Dalloz’ re- 
ports, 1850.” 

“ Lord ! Lord ! how completely my young friend’s 
position is changed. And the poor boy has no idea of it. 
He will lose everything.” 

“Why so? it depends upon the circumstances of the 
case. If he can prove that his uncle survived, if merely 
for a minute, he wins his case. Only, the burden of 
proof lies upon him.” 

“ How would you have him prove that his uncle sur- 
vived ? ” 

“ I do not know, and it is no affair of mine, but there 
are lawyers belonging to the bar of Arcv who will will- 
ingly take up the case. I even know some of them who 
would undertake it on contract because it is a “ pretty 
sure thing.” It was on this account that I wished to ac- 
quaint myself with the character of the vagabond who 
witnessed the accident. There is no doubt but that 
attempts will be made to influence him ; for if he should 


OR, WHO 18 THE HEIR? 


101 


assert, for instance, that Madame Vignemal still breathed 
when she came ashore on the bank ” 

“ He has told me the contrary, and I answer for it he 
will not perjure himself before the court. Besides he has 
described to me the state in which the body was when 
found, and my mind is made up. The poor woman was 
dead. It is also most likely that she died before her hus- 
band.” 

“ Why so? ” 

“ Because she had far more courage than poor Vig- 
nemal. She must have tried to save herself when she 
fell into the river; she must have exerted herself, strug- 
gled, and made violent attempts to breathe. Under 
such circumstances, water will penetrate to the lungs, and 
suffocation occurs in thirty or forty seconds. Vignemal, 
on the other hand, was half dead at the time when the 
boat capsized. He must have fainted at the very moment 
of immersion, and a man in a swoon can live more than 
half an hour under water. There have been instances 
of it. By the very act of fainting, the respiratory func- 
tions are suspended, and air can be dispensed with for a 
certain length of time.” 

“ I do not question the value of this scientific hypo- 
thesis, but — how do you know that before the catastrophe 
the husband was paralyzed with fear, while the wife pre- 
served all her composure ? ” 

“ Roch saw everything. He has described the scene 
to me.” 

“Roch! Nothing but Roch! Decidedly that good- 
for-nothing played a very leading part in this drama of 
the Beuvron, and a part that is not quite intelligible.” 

“ Roch acted very bravely and I swear it was through 
no fault of his that the Vignemals perished, for he risked 
his life in trying to. save them. It was through swim- 


102 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


ming to endeavor to stop the boat when it was carried 
away by the current that he was present at the last mo- 
ments of the victims. The husband had sank down into- 
the bottom of the boat, so overcome by fear that he was 
unconscious of his actions. The wife on the contrary 
stood up and began to undress herself. She undoubt- 
edly intended to jump into the water and try to reach 
the bank. She had already unbuttoned the body of her 
dress when the boat suddenly upset.” 

“ My dear doctor, you merely repeat what your Bohe- 
mian has told you,” replied the president with a wag of 
his head, for he was a sceptic by profession. “ I hope 
he told you the truth, and that they will leave him in 
peace. However, there is no thought of arresting him 
at present, though I will confess that the prosecution 
mean to keep an eye on him.” 

“ If their only object is to catch him engaged in fish- 
ing or hunting by night in an unlawful manner, they 
will be successful.” 

“ That is nothing. But the public prosecutor suspects 
Roch Ferrer of being in collusion with another bad 
character, whose relationship with Madame Vignemal 
is within the degree of succession. 

“ But that supposition is* ridiculous. One of the Foug- 
eray servants was there, you know, and he testified 
that—” 

“ I do not think his testimony is very valuable, for he 
scampered away at the first cry of distress from his mas- 
ter and mistress, and hardly saw anything at all. But 
inasmuch as the vagabond had only to cut the guiding 
rope of the ferry boat half through either the night be- 
fore or the morning of the accident, he is still liable to a 
criminal prosecution.” 

“ Ah ! for once, dear president, you are suggesting the 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


103 


incredible. Even supposing Roch wished to do away 
with the Vignemals, he could not have divined that they 
would cross the Beuvron that evening. And again, why 
should he be so anxious to drown them? To enrich a 
scape-grace cousin of Madame Vignemal? But there is 
not a soul in the place who does not know that the hus- 
band and wife made wills in each other’s favor, and Roch 
certainly did not know that the presumption of survival 
is inapplicable in the case of descent by will. This 
Robin Hood has not studied law.” 

“ Granted ; and it was perhaps for this reason that he 
fished the lady out of the water and did not fish out the 
gentleman. He drew her out, and then threw her in 
again, after assuring himself that she was not yet dead.” 

“ But he would have said that she was not dead. He 
would have proclaimed it from the housetops, since, in 
order to bring about his ends it was necessary to prove 
that she survived her husband ; at least so he believed.” 

“He may have had reasons for keeping silence of 
which I am unaware, for instance, the fear of being im- 
plicated in a bad job, and he may be refraining from 
speaking until he thinks the time has come when he can 
best further the interests of his companion without com- 
promising himself.” 

“ I am truly astonished. You are drawing the picture 
of a Roch Ferrer such as I never knew, and who does 
not exist. The Roch Ferrer of my acquaintance is a 
violent fellow, quite capable of killing any one in a fit 
of anger, but totally incapable of premeditating a wicked 
action, and above all of calculating upon its pecuniary 
consequences.” 

“ For all that, the blood of his race is full of guile.” 

“ His father was a gipsy, that is true enough, but edu- 
cation modifies characteristics, and Roch was brought up 


104 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


by the Brothers, who knew him intimately, and who 
have precisely the same opinion of him that I have. 
And then again, the lad could not have entered into a 
conspiracy, for the very excellent reason that he asso- 
ciates with no one. He lives in the fields and woods. He 
has not even built himself a hut like Robinson Crusoe. 
The peasants take him for a madman, and will hardly 
have any thing to do with him. Some fear him and 
others scorn him. I do not believe there could be found 
one to propose a bargain to the savage of F ougeray, as 
they call him.” 

“ My dear doctor,” said the president, after a short 
pause, “ I have perfect confidence in your discretion, 
which I shall prove to you by repeating what the pub- 
lic prosecutor has informed me. Information has been 
recently received at his office of the presence in the 
country of an individual who disappeared long ago and 
left very sad remembrances behind him; and this very 
individual is an actual cousin of Madame Vignemal.” 

“ Can it be little Roger that you mean?” 

“Yes, Roger Pontac, the son of the poor devil who 
rented some property from the Duke de Bretteville, and 
died very poor.” 

“ I knew him well, that same Roger. He was a brave 
lad, and a remarkably intelligent orie. I took consid- 
erable interest in him and went several times to see 
him at the college of Saint Louis, where he was pro- 
secuting his studies at his cousin’s expense. I was 
grieved to learn that he had run away at the end of his 
philosophical year, but I was not very much surprised. 
Madame Vignemal tried to force him to adopt a career 
which did not suit him, and was besides very stingy 
about the paltry allowance that she made him. The 
young, man did not like; to- live on charity,, so he took to 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


105 


his heels one day, and has never been seen since. I 
think he became a soldier; that was his proper vocation. 
And you say he has shown himself at Arcy ? ” 

“ Not at Arcy; he did not dare. But he has been 
seen prowling about F ougeray, and the public prosecu- 
tor has been informed.” 

“ By whom?” 

“ By the Vignemals’ gardener, who caught him watch- 
ing the house.” 

“ Did he not speak to him ? ” 

“No. The man moved off when he was observed.” 

“ That is strange; all the more strange, because as far 
as I know he has no reason for concealing himself. His 
cousin had no real grievance against him. If he had 
gone to her house, I have no doubt that she would 
have received him coldly, but she certainly would not 
have shut the door in his face. And there is equally no 
more reason why he should not reappear at Arcy. He 
is almost entirely unknown, and could have left no 
debts there, for he has not been there since his childhood. 
I am even astonished that he has not sought to see me, 
and I own that a visit from him would please me.” 

“ I will warrant, my dear doctor, that you need not 
count upon that. A man of his kind has nothing in com- 
mon with you.” 

“ At all events, where does he live since he is in the 
neighborhood ? ” 

“No one knows. Perhaps he has already cleared out. 
But he will be found again.” 

“ So then, your public prosecutor imagines that Roger 
Pontac came here with the express purpose of engaging 
Roch Ferrer in a conspiracy against the lives of the 
Vignemals? ” 

“ That is his idea. I give it you for what it is worth.” 


\ 


106 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Permit me to remark that the magistrate of the new 
school has no common sense. Roger Pontac never saw 
Roch Ferrer in his life, and did not know of his exist- 
ence, for Roch came to this country while Roger was a 
student at Paris. How could these two poor devils con- 
cert together to commit a crime ? ” 

“ They may have met in the corner of the woods, or 
on the banks of the Beuvron, and as they are fitted to 
understand each other, they would have had no trouble 
in coming to an agreement.” 

The doctor reflected for a moment and then said with 
an air of decision : “ I can never believe that. Roch is 

a wild fellow, a vagrant, and a poacher, but not a mur- 
derer. As for Roger I cannot answer for him as I do 
for my savage. I have lost sight of him for ten years, 
and he may have been spoiled by leading an adventurous 
life; but if he remains such as I knew him, he is not hard- 
ened in crime. He was of an upright nature, ready to 
yield to the first impulse, but that first impulse was 
always a good one. Besides, to return to the same point, 
I cannot conceive how Roch could have arranged 
the accident so that M. Vignemal must necessarily be 
drowned before his wife. That sort of combination is 
too complicated, and I will wager that neither he nor his 
pretended accomplice have ever opened a Civil Code.” 

“ As far as the aforesaid Pontac is concerned you may 
be mistaken, my dear doctor. But let us leave this pain- 
ful subject. I only broached it for the purpose of giving 
you an opportunity of telling me whatever you knew in 
favor of the lad in whom you are interested. Now that 
I have heard you, I admit that it is perhaps wrong to sus- 
pect him, and I shall trouble myself no more about him.” 

“ Do you think, then, that Du Pomm^val will not lose 
his uncle’s fortune ? ” 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


107 


“ P ardon me, my dear doctor. I cannot give you my 
opinion upon the issue of a case that I am called upon to 
decide. If I were to do so, I should have to decline to 
hear the case. All that I can say to you is, that the law 
is not satisfied with vagabond evidence, and that of Roch 
Ferrer is strongly suspected. It would be vain for your 
protege to assert that Madame Vignemal spoke to him 
when he found her under a wiliow — that would not be 
sufficient.” 

“ My dear President, I am delighted with what you 
tell me. Your language is of good omen to Arthur du 
Pomm^val, who called on me this morning ” 

“Really?” said the President with an ironical smile. 
“ I suppose he wanted to know how good his chances 
were of coming into the property.” 

“ No, he came for another purpose. I do not say that 
he was overcome with grief ; you would not believe that. 
But he did not show any unmanly joy. Besides he has 
no doubt but that the succession will devolve upon him 
without contest.” 

“ If it comes to him he will not economize it as his 
uncle did. God knows what he will do with his money. 
It will go for the purchase of horses, for betting on 
races, and for midnight suppers.” 

“ That was what I was afraid of, but since I have 
talked with him, I feel reassured. He has a project in 
view which I strongly approve of, and which will cut 
short his youthful follies.” 

“ A marriage, I presume.” 

“ Excuse me, my dear President, from giving you the 
details. It is still a secret — a secret that all the town of 
Arcy will soon know, but I have promised to keep it, 
and — ” 

The doctor did not finish his sentence. The office 

> 


108 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


door opened, and Jeannette, the former canteniere of the 
African Chasseurs, entered, carrying in her hand a visit- 
ing-card which she thrust under her master’s nose. Dr. 
Subligny cast his eyes over the square bit of paste-board, 
and was dumb-founded at reading thereon the name of 
Roger Pontac. 

“ A patient, I presume,” said the president. “ I will 
go, doctor. It does not do to keep patients wait- 
ing.” 

“Oh! as to that, there is no hurry,” murmured the 
doctor. Then turning toward the cantiniere who had 
remained standing at “ attention,” he said : “ Jeannette, 

show this gentleman into the drawing-room, and let him 
know I will be with him presently.” 

The doctor did not propose, and with good reason, to 
ask Roger Pontac into the presence of a judge who did 
not seem well-disposed toward him. He did not even 
intend to speak his name, and hastened to slip the visit- 
ing-card into his pocket. The president had already 
risen and was buttoning his overcoat previous to going 
away. Jeannette gave him the military salute, and 
turned to the right about. 

“ I am much obliged to you for posting me as to the 
intentions of the prosecuting officers,” said Dr. Subligny. 
“ I shall examine Roch.” 

“ Do not forget, I pray you, that my communications 
are entirely confidential,” interrupted the president. “ It 
is the friend and not the magistrate that has spoken.” 

“ Do not be alarmed. Discretion is a .part of my na- 
ture. I shall question him carefully, and I think I can 
promise you that I shall soon know what to think of the 
pretended relations that my Bohemian has contracted 
with that poor Roger, who has never harmed anyone but 
himself. I am obliged to go to La Germoniere to-day, 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


109 


and Roch seldom goes far away from Madame Daudi- 
erne’s park.” 

“ How is that good lady and her charming daugh- 
ters?” 

“ They were very much disturbed day before yester- 
day ; the accident took place at the foot of their garden, 
and the object of my visit is to learn tidings of them.” 

“ If young Du Pommeval were wise, he would marry 
the elder daughter. But no doubt he designs to marry 
Parisian money.” 

“ I have reason to think otherwise,” said Dr. Subligny, 
smiling. “ And I am charmed to know that you do not 
despair of his entering into possession.” 

“ I only speak as a friend. It is understood that I shall 
judge conscientiously.” 

“ I am convinced of that,” cried the doctor, pressing 
the hand of the magistrate, whom he had accompanied 
to the street door. “ And it is that very thing which re- 
assures me, for I know that poor Arthur’s cause is a 
good one.” 

“ I hope so,” replied the magistrate, “ and I am not at 
all interested in that cousin of Madame Vignemal’s, who 
returned to the place three days before the tragical death' 
of his relation.” 

The ex-military surgeon closed the door, and thought- 
fully entered the passage that divided the ground-floor of 
his villa into two equal parts. 

“ The fact is,” said he to himself, “ the unexpected re- 
turn of this fellow is extraordinary enough. I have 
always had a good opinion of him, but I do not know 
how he has been living for the past ten years. What 
can he want with me? Perhaps he has come to me for 
assistance. Well! I will not refuse him, but I will advise 
him not to linger long in our neighborhood. It is always 


110 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


a bad thing to have a crow to pluck with the government 
prosecutor, however innocent one may be.” And noticing 
Jeannette, who was standing at the foot of the passage, 
he asked: “What kind of a looking gentleman is it 
that is waiting for me in the drawing-room ? ” 

“ Looks like a prince, Major, a good-looking fellow; 
that is all I can say. F rom his bearing, it is easy to see 
he has been a soldier. If he is not decorated, it must 
be because he is too young, for he is no runaway. He 
has a slash across his face, which was made by a yata- 
ghan, if I know myself.” 

“ Ah ! murmured the doctor, calmed by this descrip- 
tion. “ Very well, show him in, and admit no one else 
until he has gone.” 

A moment later, Roger Pontac entered the office. 
Dr. Subligny was speechless with surprise at seeing him. 
The child whom he remembered as dwarfish and awk- 
wardly wrapped in a college gown that was too narrow 
and too short, had become a handsome young man, tall, 
vigorous and sunburned, and elegantly dressed in a black 
suit of fashionable cut. 

“You do not recognize me, Dr. Subligny,” said the 
new comer with a smile. “ Have I changed so much? ” 

“ Yes, my lad, and changed for the better. You are 
superb. Have you made your fortune ? ” 

“ I ! Oh, no. I am not much better off than when 
you used to visit me at college.” 

“ The deuce you are not! then you must owe money to 
your tailor, for you wear a coat of the latest style. What 
profession have you chosen ?” 

“ Y ou cannot have looked at my card.” 

“ I only read your name, which threw me into a great 
state of astonishment, for it is ten years since I have 
heard anything about you, and I did not know whether 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


Ill 


you were dead or alive. But I have your card here,” 
said the doctor, fumbling in his pocket, “ and since you 
decline to name your profession, I will consult this bit of 
paste-board. What is this? Sub-lieutenant of the 9th 
Hussars! An officer! is it possible? ” 

“ Y es, an officer of three months standing ; and as I 
enlisted in 1873, you see I have taken my time about it. 
However, that is no fault of mine. I have not been any 
too careful of myself.” 

“An officer! That is grand,” cried the doctor, whose 
face continued to brighten. “ Without family, friends 
or money, you have won your epaulets in eight years. I 
knew right well you were a brave fellow and would 
succeed in the army. Give me your hand, Roger; sit 
down and let us talk.” 

The young man cordially grasped the doctor by both 
hands, and sat down upon the chair which had a moment 
before been the resting place of the magistrate who had 
so slight an opinion of Madame Vignemal’s poor rela- 
tions. 

“ If you only knew how glad I am to see you,” he 
said with an emotion he did not try to hide. “ Y ou were 
so good to me in former times. I shall never forget 
your visits to the college, where I was so neglected by my 
relatives that I was even left there during holiday- 
time.” 

“ That is all very well; but why have you never given 
me any token that you were alive after the mad prank 
with which you cut short your collegiate course? I was 
told a short time ago that you had returned to the vicinity 
but I hardly believed it.” 

“ I took an oath not to reappear until I had retrieved 
my wrongs by gaining the rank of which I was ambiti- 
ous. I was in Tunis when I earned my commission, and 


113 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


I did not lose a minute in applying for a furlough. But 
I did not anticipate upon my return the sad tidings of 
my cousin’s death — and such a death ! 

“Ah! So you know that she was accidentally 
drowned,” said the doctor with a frown. “ How did 
you hear of it? Have you been to Fougeray? ” 

“No, doctor, I did not dare to present myself there, 
much as I desired it, for Madame Vignemal took care of 
me in my childhood and I owe her gratitude. I once 
ventured as far as the garden gate, but had not the cour- 
age to ring the bell. I was afraid of an unpleasant re- 
ception.” 

“ It seems that the gardener saw you then.” 

“ Quite likely. I was not hiding myself. I will tell 
you why I did not go in. Two days after I received 
official notice of my promotion, I wrote my cousin a let- 
ter in which I explained the reason of my prolonged 
silence. I begged her to forget the past, and to allow 
me to see her upon my return to F ranee. She did not 
answer my letter.” 

“ Good! ” muttered the doctor to himself. “Perhaps 
this letter may turn up, and that will prove — but never 
mind that now. Where have you been living since your 
arrival? You did not condescend I fancy, to an inn at 
Arcy.” 

“ I am living at the Chateau de Bretteville.” 

* “ What! With the Duke? ” 

“Yes, I have accepted an invitation to be his guest 
during my stay in France.” 

“ And to what circumstances do you owe the distinc- 
tion of being entertained by that great lord, who does 
not deign to receive the citizens of Arcy.” 

“ To a very unhappy circumstance. His son, who 
was a lieutenant in my squadron, was killed by my side 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


113 


while charging the Arabs. In trying to defend him I 
received the sabre cut of which you see the scar, and 
though unable to save his life, I managed to recover his 
body from the enemy. I had the satisfaction of convey- 
ing back to his father his Cross of the Legion of Honor.” 

“ And the Duke received you like a friend. Good. 
You behaved nobly. Roger, I was right in upholding 
you for a brave hearted man.” 

“ Has any one asserted the contrary? ” asked the young 
official, with a smile. 

“No, not exactly; but when I think of that fool of a 
— let us change the subject, my boy. I can understand 
why you hesitated to present yourself to the Vignemals, 
but to speak frankly, I am a little vexed with you for 
not coming to see me. Bretteville is not far off.” 

“Just consider, doctor, that I should have been recog- 
nized if I had shown myself in the streets of Arcy, and 
that the news of my arrival would have reached F oug- 
eray. 

“ I see ; you were afraid your cousin would have been 
displeased at your giving me the preference.” 

“ Y ou have guessed my motive. I no longer had this 
fear, Alas! when the poor woman was dead, so I came 
with all speed. I longed to tell you that I have never 
forgotten your kindness, and to ask you for your friend- 
ship and advice.” 

“ My friendship is yours already, and when I know 
upon what you wish to consult me, I will give you my 
advice. Not your health, I hope? ” 

“ I have not had twenty-four hours in the hospital 
since I entered the service. But I would like to have 
you point out the line of conduct I ought to pursue. 
Every one here knows that Madame Vignemal with- 
drew from me both her protection and assistance.” 


8 


114 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


“ That is no reason why you should not be present at 
the funeral which will take place to-morrow. I urge 
you strongly not to fail to be there.” 

“ I will go, doctor, and I swear to you it will be no 
hardship for me to fulfill this duty, for I am truly grieved 
at her loss.” 

“You doubtless know,” said Dr. Subligny after a 
pause, “ that by a will dated some time ago she left all 
her property to her husband.” 

“No. I did not know it,” said Roger in an indiffer- 
ent manner. 

“Yes, my boy, her property will probably go to a 
nephew of M. Vignemal, Arthur du Pommeval.” 

“ That little du Pommeval who always looked so spick 
and span neat, while all the other youngsters of his age 
were climbing trees and tearing their trowsers? Oh! 
well, so much the better. If he has turned out as he 
promised to, he should be fond of expending money on 
his toilet. M. Vignemal’s fortune will suit him very 
nicely.” 

“ But, you unlucky dog, this fortune was your cousin’s, 
and if young du Pommeval obtains it, it will be at your 
loss.” 

“ Wa^ I the heir ? ” 

“ You were heir to part of it, you great simpleton; but 
even the loss of that part is worth regretting. Your 
cousin must have left between two or three millions, and 
there were only six or seven of you to divide the inherit- 
ance.” 

“ Upon my word, I had no idea of it. I thought my 
cousin had nearer relatives than I — or rather I never both- 
ered myself about the disposition of her money. I can 
say sincerely that I do not regret its loss — my pay is 
enough for me.” 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


115 


“ You are just the same boy as ever,” said the doctor, 
looking at Roger with a sort of tender admiration. 
u Y ou have self-confidence, and do not rely upon those 
freaks of fortune which make men rich. You are on the 
right track, and I am sure you will succeed by your own 
merits. I like your courage, and beg you to count upon 
me under all circumstances.” 

“ V ery well, doctor,” said the young lieutenant gaily, 
<l it happens that I have a favor to ask of you just now.” 

“ So much the better. Out with it, my boy; what can 
I do for you? ” 

“ It is within your power, I think, to introduce me to 
M. Daudierne, brother-in-law of the Madame Daudierne, 
who bought La Germoniere some ten years ago.” 

w Is that all? ” asked the doctor. “ Nothing could be 
easier. I am the family physician. But what the devil 
do you want with M. Daudierne, and how did you come 
to know him ? ” 

“ I don’t know him,” replied Roger, “ and it is pre- 
cisely because I have never seen him that I have need of 
an introduction in order that I may acquit myself of a 
commission with which I am charged.” 

“ By whom ? ” 

“ By the Duke de Bretteville. He has heard that M. 
Daudierne is a great sportsman, and would like very well 
to be permitted to hunt in the forest of La Breteche, 
which is full of game. The Duke wishes to do him a 
courtesy, and would have gone in person to invite him 
to shoot his deer and pheasants if his mourning had per- 
mitted. Since his son’s death he has received no one, 
except me, who am able to talk with him about poor 
Henri.” 

“ And so he makes you his ambassador to his neighbor 
at La Germoniere. The act is all the more gracious on 


116 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


his part because he has always avoided forming any re- 
lations with the country people. They say he is very 
aristocratic.” 

“ They are mistaken, doctor. He is proud of his rank* 
but has no caste prejudices.” 

“ That is proved by his offering his hospitality to you* 
who are the son of one of his tenants. The exception he 
makes in your case does you honor, my boy, and I am 
glad you accepted his invitation. So you are living at 
the chateau, and are the table-companion and almost 
friend of one of the greatest lords in France, a duke 
who has an income of three hundred thousand francs a 
year! and for a moment I suspected — ” 

“What did you suspect?” said Roger gaily. “Did 
you fancy I slept in the open air? ” 

“Not exactly, but I supposed you had found board 
and lodging under the roof of some peasant in the vicin- 
ity of F ougeray. I knew you had been seen there ; but 
then I did not know you had become a fine officer; and 
as you have relatives among the farmers of the prov- 
ince — ” 

“ Relatives whom I scarcely know, and who have 
never done anything for me. Thank heaven I need no 
one’s aid, and have no idea of cousining with them. If 
the Duke had not insisted so upon receiving me at Bret- 
teville, I should have simply gone and put up at the 
Hotel de Bretagne, in the main street of Arcy, and my 
first visit would have been to you. I would have begged 
you to reinstate me in the good graces of Madame Vig- 
nemal.” 

“ And perhaps I should have succeeded. Your epau- 
lets, so valiantly won, would have gratified her pride* 
and your repentance would have touched her. In short* 
it is very unlucky for you that she is dead. But to re- 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


117 


turn to your other cousins; I warn you that they will 
shortly be coming to Bretteville to claim kinship with 
you.” 

“Well, I am not ashamed of them, and if I can do 
them a good turn — ” 

“ It is rumored that Arthur du Pommeval will have 
to go to law with them in order to substantiate his title.” 

“ V ery well ; they will go to law without me.’ 

“ Will you really refuse to join them if the suit is 
brought ? ” 

“ Decidedly yes; I hate litigation.” 

“ You may depend upon it they will come to you and 
propose an alliance.” 

“ Then I will send them away, I assure you. It would 
be a fine thing for an officer of hussars to spend his time 
running about among attorneys and solicitors/ I had 
much rather go back to Africa.” 

“ And you are right Roger, a hundred times right, es- 
pecially since these people will lose their case. I am 
sure of that. They will be at considerable expense, and 
I strongly approve your keeping aloof. Besides, if 
they were to win, your rights would be established just 
the same, and you would inherit like the rest.” 

“Inherit! I have no desire that way. The money 
would only be a nuisance.” 

“ There you are wrong, my boy. A fortune is no 
nuisance even to a soldier. I have known some who were 
millionaires, yet they stood fire as well as any one. And 
since you need money to marry well ” 

“ Y ou forget, doctor, that I am only a sub-lieutenant.” 

“ True. But when you are a superior officer, or a cap- 
tain, perhaps you won’t mind marrying the lady of your 
choice. But if you have no money, you will have no 
choice, and must marry what you can get. In the mean- 


118 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


time, before the arrival of your wedding-day, you would 
like to be introduced to M. Daudierne, would you not? ” 

“ Yes, I think it will be more fitting, for then I shall 
not have to state my own name and standing. If I went 
alone M. Daudierne might take me for the Duke’s stew- 
ard — ” 

“ He has too much tact and knowledge of the world 
to make such a blunder as that. But no matter; it is 
best that I should introduce you. And it happens most 
opportunely that I have business to-day at La Germon- 
iere. Shall I take you with me? ” 

“ Willingly, doctor, provided my company will be of 
no trouble to you.” 

“Not a bit of it. I shall be charmed to have you 
along. There is room for two in my tilbury, and the 
mare must be harnessed by this time, for I told Jean- 
nette to have the carriage ready at three o’clock, and she 
is as punctual as an old soldier. Did you know she be- 
longed to the cavalry?” 

“ I do not doubt it, since you trust her with the care 
of yours.” 

“ Oh! my cavalry is composed of a single steed, and 
Jeannette is quite competent to take care of it. Well, 
are you ready to go with me to see our friends yonder? 
Yes, you are in visiting costume. Just give me time to 
put on my best cloak and we will start. Wait for me 
here, and do not be afraid to smoke a cigar if you so 
wish. My patients are used to the smell of tobacco. I 
have preserved my old army pipe, and I do not fail to 
light it when I am working by night in my study.” 

Thus speaking, the doctor went out, and Roger Pon- 
tac gave himself up to his reflections. The reception he 
had received from Dr. Subligny both touched and 
charmed him. He felt stronger, now that he knew he 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


119 


had not lost the friendship of this worthy man who had 
sustained and consoled him in former days. He no 
longer seemed alone in the world, and his life began to 
assume a new aspect. F or the first time in ten years he 
felt that he was loved and befriended, and that he had 
almost found a father. But he dared not add a confi- 
dant ; he had not dared to say that his sole reason for 
wishing to visit La Germoniere was not to invite Uncle 
Armand to go hunting in the forest of La Breteche. 

The evening before, after his adventure, Roger had 
returned to the chateau in a state of agitation which did 
not escape the piercing eyes of the old Duke, and upon 
being questioned by that most benevolent of hosts, he 
had concealed nothing. He even went so far as to con- 
sult him as to what he ought to do, and, to his great sur- 
prise, the Duke had advised him to call upon his country 
neighbors, without pre-occupying his mind with the 
sequel of the romance sketched put at the foot of Lemon* 
Rock. 

“ Y ou must be bored here, my dear boy,” the indul- 
gent Duke had said. “ Why do you not go to La Ger- 
moniere, and divert your attention from our sad conver- 
sations ? If I could forget for a moment the sad misfor- 
tune which has come upon me, I would go with you. 
But I beg you to inform M. Daudierne that my pre- 
serves are at his disposal. Your scruples regarding his 
niece are exaggerated. An officer like you is as good as 
the daughter of a bourgeois, however respectable he 
may have been. Let the result of your chance acquaint- 
ance be what it may, I am confident that you will con- 
duct yourself like a gentleman. Go where your destiny 
calls you.” 

Roger was only too ready to follow this advice, given 
as it was by a man whose age, rank and experience au- 


120 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


thorized him to speak in this fashion. He grew bolder 
by degrees, and at last ventured to ask the Duke how he 
ought to approach Madame Daudierne; whether it 
would be proper to mention his meeting with her daugh- 
ter, or to take the convenient pretext afforded by the 
invitation which he bore from the Duke to the lady’s 
brother. The Duke was in favor of the latter scheme. 

“ One never can tell what a young girl will do in such a 
case,” said the Duke, smiling. “ Mademoiselle Daudierne 
told you that she should tell her mother everything, but 
she may have changed her mind, and you will do well 
to wait until the mother broaches the subject. If she 
does not speak of it, it will be because she is still in igno- 
rance, and it is not your place to enlighten her.” 

Roger agreed with his noble patron upon this point, 
and raised no objection to a plan so entirely his own. 
He was anxious for the morrow and could hardly sleep. 
F or the first time in his life his heart experienced a new 
sentiment. True, it was not his first love affair. Eight 
years in the army had destroyed the innocent illusions of 
his youth, and handsome as he was, he had, in view of 
his easy success, only the embarrassment of making his 
choice. But he soon abandoned such inglorious con- 
quests. And then he had not become a soldier to be a 
garrison Don Juan. He had donned the uniform to 
fight, and win distinction with his sword. After fight- 
ing like a hero in Tunis and Algiers, he at last rose from 
the ranks. He was now somebody in the great military 
family, and already had glimpses, in the dim future, of a 
general’s stars, the loftiest dream of a soldier, now that 
the marshal’s truncheon is only a thing of the past. He 
had reached the turning point of his life, and now Prov- 
idence had thrown in his path an adorable young girl, 
whom he would never have dared approach had he met 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


121 


her in society, that society which had always been closed 
to him, but which he now had the right to enter with 
head erect. The charming Germaine was under obliga- 
tions to him and had promised to see him again. There 
was already almost a secret between the two. 

It was too much. The prudence of this youth of 
twenty-seven years could not withstand such a strong 
temptation, and the Duke’s motto “ Let come what may, 
while honor holds,” triumphed over his lingering hesita- 
tion. 

Since morning Roger had been all ready for his first 
visit to La Germoniere. He had intended to go on a 
saddle-horse that the Duke placed at his disposal, and 
had already entered the stables to give his orders, when 
the conversation between two of the grooms apprised 
him of the sad accident of the ferry-boat. No one at 
the chateau knew that the Duke’s guest was a cousin of 
Madame Vignemal, and the young officer had the pres- 
ence of mind not to betray how the occurrence affected 
him; but this news made some change in his plans. He 
felt that it imposed certain duties on him, and he imme- 
diately decided to go and find the good doctor whom he 
reproached himself for having neglected so long. He 
wished to tell him his story r explain his perplexity, and 
ask him whether he ought to appear at his cousin’s fu- 
neral. Then he conceived the idea of asking him for 
an introduction to La Germoniere. He knew that Dr. 
Subligny had attended Madame Daudierne, her daugh- 
ters and her people, since she had bought the estate es- 
tablished by the druggist, and he thought that the 
patronage of the family doctor might be useful on this 
occasion. Nor was he sorry that he had applied to him. 
The doctor had received him as one receives an old 
friend, would throw open his doors to him, assist him, 


122 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


recommend him ; and perhaps later, if the dreams of the 
poor lieutenant should take a substantial form, and the 
meeting at Lemon Rock should lead to serious conse- 
quences, the doctor would not refuse to say a good word 
for his protege. 

Roger was plunged in these meditations when Dr. 
Subligny reappeared all dressed in black, even to his 
cravat and gloves, although he did not ordinarily pride 
himself upon the conventionality of his appearance. 

“ Y ou never saw me so fine before, did you ? ” said he 
with a laugh. “ Haven’t I a formal look ? It does not 
amuse me, I can tell you that, but to-day it is according 
to orders.” 

“ Naturally, since you are going to call upon Madame 
Daudierne,” murmured Pontac. 

“ Oh! it is not that. They receive me very nicely at 
La Germoniere in my every-day clothes. The chate- 
laine does not stand upon ceremony, and her brother, to 
whom you are bearing the invitation treats me like a 
comrade. But this is an exceptional case. I may men- 
tion it to you since you are outside of our town gossip. 
I am charged with a mission. I am going to make a 
formal proposal for the hand of one of the young ladies ; 
not for myself,” added the doctor, bursting into laugh- 
ter. 

At this unexpected declaration Roger turned pale and 
remained silent. His trouble was so noticeable that the 
doctor perceived it, and asked him : 

“ What is the matter with you ? Y ou are pulling a 
very long face. Any one would think I had just told 
you some bad news.” 

u There is nothing the, matter I assure you,” stam- 
mered the sub-lieutenant. “ A fit of dizziness seized me. 
It is so hot in your office.” 


OR, WHO IS TIIE HEIR? 


123 


“ The truth is Jeannette has a mania for lighting fires 
that would roast an ox, as though I was still bivouacing 
in the mountains. And I do not see how I could have 
been so stupid as to fancy that my mission to La Ger- 
moniere could be distasteful to you. You can hardly 
be concerned about the marriage of a young lady whom 
you have never seen.” 

44 Of course not. But I fear that I will incommode 
you if I go. In an affair like this a stranger would be 
in the way.” 

44 In the first place, you are not a total stranger. I have 
known yoti since you were born, and you will soon 
make acquaintance with the people at La Germoniere. 

I assure you that yQU will not inconvenience me at all.” 

44 But I cannot make a third in the matrimonial con- 
versation you are going to have with Madame Daud- 
ierne,” murmured the young officer, with a forced 
smile. 

44 No, that would hardly be suitable,” said the doctor, 
gaily. 44 Such affairs are discussed privately, and abso- 
lute secrecy is indispensable, until the day when the mar- 
riage is announced with a flourish of trumpets. I really 
ought not to have told you of my business at La Ger- 
moniere, but you will not repeat it, since you see no one 
but the Duke de Bretteville, who is little interested, I 
take it, in the tittle-tattle of the neighborhood. Besides, 

I know that you are discreet. Never mind, I shall not 
tell you any more about it. As for any inconvenience 
resulting from your presence at La Germoniere while I 
am making my proposition, be assured, my lad, that all 
will be arranged capitally. La Germoniere is a perfect 
Liberty Hall. Madame Daudierne remains in the draw- 
ing-room, and the young ladies promenade in the gardens • >• 
or sketch in the studio. M. Daudierne shoots his rab- 


124 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


bits on the banks of the Beuvron, and visitors do as they 
like. One is quite at home there. I will present you to 
the chatelaine and you will explain the object of your 
visit; if her brother is out doors you will go to look for 
him, unless you prefer to chat with the young ladies, 
who are both very pretty and very clever. After I have 
introduced you, I shall ask for a private audience with 
Madame Daudierne. That w’ill be a matter of half an 
hour, and if I receive a favorable answer, you shall be 
the first to hear of it, for we will return together. Will 
you dine with me ! ” 

“ It would be a pleasure, .my dear doctor, But I prom- 
ised the Duke to return at seven o’clock.” 

“ It mtist be at some other time, then. Come, let us 
relieve guard for Jeannette, who is. watching the tilbury 
and mare.” 

Roger had a strong desire to propose new objections, 
for this trip to La Germoniere pleased him much less 
now that Dr. Subligny had explained the motives of his 
call upon Madame Daudierne. But how was he to re- 
fuse the doctor’s patronage after having asked for it? 
That would be almost equivalent to betraying his secret 
hopes. 

The doctor was very keen-witted, in spite of his frank- 
ness and blunt manner. He might guess the very thing 
which his young protege was most anxious to conQeal 
from him. Besides, Roger trusted to making him talk 
during the ride. One of the young ladies was going to 
marry; but which one? The poor lover was very anx- 
ious to know, while there was perhaps yet time to repress 
the feelings which were agitating his heart. 

o o o 

The carriage was waiting before the garden entrance 
under the vigilant eye of Jeannette. What the doctor 
called the tilbury was an odd vehicle which did not re- 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


125 


semble any known model. It was part phaeton, part vic- 
toria, and part cabriolet such as our fathers used. The 
box rested on four wheels, and had a seat in front, one 
behind, a movable top and a dickey. 

“ There is no style about this chariot of mine,” said Dr. 
Subligny, “ but it is solid, and that is the best quality for 
traveling the roads of this beastly stony country. I told 
du Pomm^val the very same thing this morning, but he 
was not disposed to believe me; he will have Parisian 
carriage-ware, and one of these days he will upset on his 
way to La Germoniere. Get in, Roger; it is time to start.” 

“ I have it,” thought Roger. “ The doctor is under- 
taking this mission on behalf of du Pomm^val. He is 
rich, and will not be refused. God grant his choice may 
be — the other one ! ” 

Dr. Subligny already had the reins in his bands, and 
Roger was obliged to take his place at that gentleman’s 
left, with the hope that the latter would complete his in- 
discretion by naming , the one of the two sisters whom 
the wealthy heir had honored with his preference. The 
doctor from the coachman’s seat guided the mare in an 
unceremonious fashion, and after a few turns they entered 
the Rue Nationale. The idlers were out in force, and it 
was easy to see that the fact of Dr. Subligny driving out 
with a strange young man was a matter of general com- 
ment. The road taken by the conveyance showed 
plainly enough that they were on their way to La Ger- 
moniere, and the curious were quick in concluding that 
the stranger was an aspirant for the hand of one of 
Madame Daudierne’s daughters. The news spread with 
lightning rapidity, and in three-quarters of an hour all 
Arcy knew it. But no one had recognized the little 
Pontac who used to run about the F ougeray woods in 
former times in blouse and wooden shoes. 


126 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ You see, my dear fellow,” cried Dr. Subligny, these 
gad-abouts have no recollection of you. I am very glad, 
for you would gain nothing by associating with them. 
The country folks unfortunately have better memories, 
for one of them remarked the walk you took on your 
cousin’s grounds.” 

“ Why unfortunately?” asked Pontac with astonish- 
ment. u I have a good right to go where I please.” 

“ Of course. But good nature is not a leading trait of 
the Arcy people. You have no idea of the nonsense 
they invent. But you care nothing for that, and you are 
right. By the way, speaking of their fabrications, have 
you ever met Roch Ferrer?” 

“ Roch Ferrer? I never heard the name before.” 

“ Good ! but maybe you know the person who bears 
it, a young fellow of about twenty, who camps out in 
the woods like an Indian, and poaches every where. You 
might have met him setting his snares on the Duke’s 
property.” ^ 

“ He would not dare. The forest of La Breteche is 
too well watched. And to hinder this scoundrel from 
destroying the game, I will warn the Duke’s steward 
this very evening.” 

“No, don’t do that, I beg of you. The lad interests 
me. I have mended a broken limb for him two or three 
times, and I am weak enough to become attached to my 
patients as though I were still in the army.” 

“ Why don’t he work, and not play the vagrant? That 
is the advice I shall give him if I happen to run across him.” 

“ He would not follow it, and I warn you earnestly 
not to talk to him if you do meet him.” 

“ I am not to talk to your protege then, doctor? But 
how shall 1 know him when I see him?” 

“ Oh, you couldn’t mistake him. He resembles neither 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


127 


gentleman nor peasant. He has a copper-colored skin 
and jet-black hair.” 

“ A sort of gipsey then ? ” 

“ Exactly. However, I do not know how I came to 
speak of him.” 

Dr. Subligny did not speak the truth here, for he had 
not introduced the name of Roch Ferrer thus suddenly 
by chance. He wanted to satisfy himself that the suspi- 
cions of the prosecuting officer were unfounded, and the 
frank responses of Roger had enlightened him on this 
point. But he did not propose to acquaint Roger with 
the ridiculous suspicions of which he was the object. 
He thought for a moment of telling him how Roch had 
been a witness of the death of the Vignemals. That 
would have been natural enough, but still he was silent. 
He judged it to be of little good to do any thing to bring 
about a meeting between two men whom a magistrate 
of the new school accused so unreasonably of having 
concerted to commit a crime. He also asked himself 
whether in presenting Roger at La Germoniere it would 
not be better to refrain from mentioning his relationship 
with Madame Vignemal. “What would be the use?” 
he said to himself. w As soon as the Daudiernes know 
that he has come on behalf of the Duke de Bretteville, 
they will forget my having mentioned day before yes- 
terday that he is one of the disinherited heirs. If they 
were reminded of that, they might feel obliged to utter 
some expressions of condolence which would embarrass 
him. And that would give rise to talk about the ac- 
cident, which would be lamentable. Decidedly, I will 
say nothing about it. It is for him to judge whether 
he will figure in the role of afflicted cousin.” 

The mare was trotting at a rapid rate, and they cov- 
ered ground in good style. 


128 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“We are nearing La Germoniere,” said Pontac. “ I 
can see the tops of the trees in the Tertre woods.” 

“ Y ou must have played about here in your early 
childhood,” remarked the doctor. 

“ I used to come every day and run about the park, 
after the house was closed. I could walk over it now 
with my eyes shut.” 

“ Madame Daudierne bought the land and chateau in 
1871, but for three or four years she hardly lived there. 
The education of her daughters kept her in Paris.” 

“ She has two, I believe.” 

“Yes, and one son, who does not come up to his sisters.” 

“ Are they about the same age? ” asked Roger, to lead 
the doctor on to further developments. 

“The elder is over twenty-three; the younger is 
twenty years and six months. You see it is time for 
them to marry — especially the elder.” 

“ And there is to be no delay about it, you say.” 

“ One can never be sure about such matters. To ask 
the hand of a young girl of good family is not to get it. 
These young ladies have a right to be particular — Lau- 
rence especially — and their mother is not a woman to 
force husbands upon them.” 

Roger started at hearing the name of Laurence, 
which was not the one which had been repeated by the 
echo at Lemon Rock. The doctor’s words seemed to in- 
dicate that his mission concerned the elder of the two 
sisters, whose time for marrying had come. Was Ger- 
maine the younger? Roger did not know, and was very 
anxious to find out, without disclosing his secret. 

“ Mademoiselle Laurence is the younger, I presume,” 
he said, timidly. 

“No,” answered the doctor, “she is the elder, and I 
think she is even more captivating than Germaine, who 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


129 


is three years younger. They arc both loveable girls, but 
Laurence will make a perfect wife.” 

“ And as for her sister ? ” 

“ Lord ! her sister has the germ of all those qualities 
which ensure a happy married life. They only need de- 
veloping, and that will be her husband’s affair. But if 
he should chance not to make her love him, I would not 
answer for consequences. Germaine is thoughtless and 
wilful and is inclined to be romantic. She will outgrow 
theses trifling faults; but Laurence is already ready for 
married life.” 

“ There is no doubt about it,” thought Roger, now 
entirely at ease. “ It is the elder who is destined to be- 
come Madame du Pommeval.” 

“ I don’t know why I go into all these details,” said 
Dr. Subligny. “You are not a candidate, and have no 
thought of taking a wife. Y ou will wait until you are a 
captain before you settle down, and you are right. It is 
better to stay a bachelor than to marry badly, and a sub- 
lieutenant always marries badly. When I think that 
when I left Val-de-Grace, with the rank of sub-aid, I 
came near marrying a laundress in the Rue St. Jacques, 
it makes me shiver even now.” 

Pontac laughed between his teeth; the doctor had un- 
intentionally touched him on a tender spot. 

“ We are entering the avenue,” said the doctor after 
quite a pause, “ and there is old Baptiste, who looks as if 
he was on his way to post a letter, and can tell us as he 
passes, whether they are at home.” 

“ Is Madame at home ? ” he cried to the old valet. 

“ Madame and the young ladies are in the garden,” 
said Baptiste with a respectful bow. “ I think they have 
gone toward the periwinkle path. M. Armand is out on 
the river with his gun, shooting ducks.” 


9 


130 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ So much the better,” thought the doctor. “ The 
uncle would only have been in the way. After I have 
introduced you, you may go and find him, and spend your 
time with him while I am fulfilling my engagement with 
Madame Daudierne.” 

This proposal of Dr. Subligny, however, only half 
pleased Roger, who vastly preferred a chat with the 
young ladies to a formal delivery of his invitation to their 
uncle. He felt that this interview would decide his fate. 
The meeting at Lemon Rock was only a starting-point, 
well bred young ladies do not expose their real feel- 
ings in a first interview, and every thing depended 
upon the way in which Germaine would receive the 
young lieutenant, when regularly presented by a friend 
of the family. In the meantime, he must pluck up 
courage, and leave the carriage with the doctor at the 
outhouses, where the coachman, who had seen them en- 
ter the driveway, was waiting to unharness the mare and 
put her in the stable. 

“ Madame Daudierne is in the garden with her daugh- 
ters,” grumbled the doctor. “ That is all well enough ; but 
how in the deuce am I going to find the periwinkle path ?” 

“ I know,” said Roger eagerly, “ and I can take you 
there. Y ou must introduce me to Madame Daudierne, 
you know.” 

“ Certainly, and if M. Armand is shooting too far 
away, you can explain to his sister the object of your 
visit. After that, you will be free to go or stay as you 
please. If you stay, you will not be bored; the girls are 
very charming.” 

“ I have not decided yet,” stammered Roger. 

The druggist’s house had been built according to the 
old fashion between the court and the garden, but the 
new proprietors had erected dividing walls. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


131 


“Do you recognize the place?” asked Dr. Subligny, 
as they emerged upon the main walk which led straight 
from the porch to the river. 

“ Perfectly,” said the young officer. “ I find the park 
the same as I left it. Here at the left, is the conserva- 
tory ; there is the aviary. There is the lake, with the 
wooden bridge leading to the summer house decorated 
with stained glass. And to the right the clump of green 
trees.” 

“ Yes, Madame Daudierne had good sense enough not 
to anglicize her grounds by introducing artificial terraces 
and cottages after the Champs- Ely sees style. Nothing 
has changed here but ourselves, my lad. But we must 
take the shortest cut to the periwinkle path.” 

“We have only to pass through this group of larches.” 

“ They must have grown since you saw them last. But 
the grotto is in the same place. The druggist went in 
for artificial grottos and plaster statues. There is a Flora 
who has lost an arm, and a Faun who no longer occu- 
pies his pedestal.” 

Roger cast a vacant eye at the ivy-wreathed rocks and 
moss-grown statues. His mind was elsewhere. 

Chance cut short the agony of his suspense. At the 
turn of a shady path, the lieutenant and the doctor per- 
ceived Madame Daudierne coming toward them in com- 
pany with one of her daughters, who was immediately 
recognized by Pontac, in spke of her blue hood. Dr. 
Subligny seemed to recover the agility of youth in his 
endeavors to spare them from traveling their half of the 
distance, and said as he approached them : 

“ Good day, Madame. Good day, Mademoiselle Ger- 
maine. You must be surprised to see me here at this 
time of day, but once isn’t always. I have deserted my 
office to come to La Germoniere, and my patients must 


132 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


get along the best they can. I have to-day tu introduce 
to you my young friend Roger Pontac, officer of hus- 
sars, whom I have not seen for a long time, and who is 
temporarily our neighbor, as he is staying at the Chateau 
de Bretteville, and brings an invitation from the Duke to 
M. Armand.” 

“ My brother-in-law will be greatly flattered,” said 
Madame Daudierne in great surprise. “ He has not the 
honor of an acquaintance with the Duke de Brette- 
ville.” 

“ The Duke has learned, Madame,” said Roger, “ that 
M. Daudierne would enjoy hunting in the forest of La 
Breteche, and he has charged me — ” 

“ Oh ! Monsieur,” interrupted Germaine, “ you can- 
not think how delighted my uncle w r ill be; he thinks of 
nothing but the La Breteche deer; he actually dreams of 
them, and if you bring him permission to shoot there — ” 

“ As often as he pleases, Mademoiselle, and the Duke 
places his keepers and hounds at his disposal.” 

Roger had gained his self-possession, as soon as he saw 
how the ground lay. Madame Daudierne was evidently 
unaware of his adventure, or at all events, if her daugh- 
ter had mentioned it, she had taken care to pass over the 
striking episode of the fairy rock, for her mother was by 
no means moved when she heard Dr. Subligny pro- 
nounce the name of Pontac. At the same time this was 
not the first occasion of her hearing that easily remem- 
bered name, for the doctor had mentioned it in her pres- 
ence in connection with the Vignemal inheritance; but 
this fact had quite escaped her recollection. 

Germaine was the only person in La Germoniere who 
had the gift of memory, and Madame Daudierne had 
no idea that the Duke’s messenger was no stranger to her 
younger daughter. The lovely Germaine was in no way 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


133 


disconcerted at the sudden appearance of her cavalier, 
and her discretion struck Roger as a favorable sign. 

“ My brother-in-law will regret sincerely that he was 
not here to receive you, Monsieur,” said Madame Daud- 
ierne. “ He has gone hunting some distance from here, 
f and I doubt if he returns before dark, but he will most 
assuredly go to Bretteville to thank the Duke for his 
courtesy, and he will then have the pleasure of meeting 
yourself.” 

“ In the meantime, my dear Madame,” interposed the 
doctor, who was anxious to accomplish his purpose, “ we 
should be very sorry, my young friend and I, to inter- 
rupt your promenade, and I have a matter of some im- 
portance to discuss with you, which can be treated of 
perfectly well in the open air. The weather is like 
spring, and our interview need not take much time.” 

“Just as 'you please, doctor,” assented the lady, not 
however without a glance at her daughter and the young 
officer. 

“ Laurence will join us soon, I fancy,” she said to 
Germaine. 

That young lady lost no time in replying: “ Oh, yes, 
she will be here right away if she has not stopped to 
pick faded periwinkles. She is just crazy about herba- 
riums. I hate them. I think they are merely ceme- 
teries for pretty flowers. But she walks faster than we 
do, and will be up with us in five minutes.” 

“ Then, Doctor, I am at your service,” said Madame 
Daudierne, increasing her pace in order to leave the 
young people behind. “ M. Pontac will excuse me for 
a few minutes. Germaine will show you our magnolias. 
They are the finest in the country, and I doubt whether 
Paris itself can show their equal.” 

Pontac wanted nothing better than to be left alone 


134 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


with Germaine, and was truly thankful for the absence 
of her elder sister. Her uncle, too, was out of the way. 
Everything seemed to conspire in his favor. 

“ I knew perfectly well that you would come,” said 
Germaine, with a smile of encouragement. 

“ You must pardon me, Madamoiselle, for having had 

recourse to a pretext ” 

“ Oh ! as for your pretext, it was I who gave you the 
hint the other day. It would be very poor taste for me 
to find fault with you for using it, but I was not at all 
sure that you would do so, and that is why I have said 
nothing at home about our meeting. But now, that you 
have come, I have no longer any reason for keeping 
silent, and I shall tell mamma how you extricated me 
from a painful dilemma. As soon as she has finished 
talking with the doctor, I shall give her an account of 
my adventures. But I cannot guess what the important 
business is that the doctor has got to talk about.” 

u I think that I know, Madamoiselle,” said the young 
officer timidly. 

At this very moment, Dr. Subligny, who had lost no 
time in coming to the point, was broaching his impor- 
tant question after a very brief preamble. 

“ Yes, Madame,” said he, “ it is a very serious case. 
Arthur du Pommeval came to me this morning for the 
express purpose of begging me to present his request. 
He might have chosen a better medium, for I am no 
hand at such matters, but you know he has not a rela- 
tion in the world, and I am his physician and old friend. 
I therefore consented to represent him, and I have the 
honor of a sufficiently intimate acquaintance with your- 
self to warrant a frank answer on your part — and an im- 
mediate one, for the young man is in a great hurry to 
become your son-in-law.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


135 


“ Too much in a hurry, I am afraid,” said Madame 
Daudierne, with a smile. “His uncle is not even buried 
yet. The application which you make in his name does 
me much honor, but it strikes me as a little premature.” 

“ I don’t deny that, but then lovers always outstep the 
bounds of decorum, and du Pommeval is madly in 
love.” 

“ I noticed something of the kind the last time he was 
here ; he danced with my daughter the whole evening.” 

“ He would have spoken his mind a year ago if he had 
dared to. He had only a very small income then, but 
now he is rich, or will be, and you ought to appreciate 
his haste to lay his newly acquired fortune at the feet of 
Madamoiselle Daudierne. His very first thought was of 
her.” 

“ I can readily understand that such a change of cir- 
cumstances might have wrought a change of sentiment, 
and I am quite sure that his love is sincere, and that he 
would do his best to make my daughter happy. At the 
same time, I cannot give you my answer without first 
consulting her.” 

“ Quite right, Madame, and the sooner the better. I 
have no fears of an unfavorable reply on her part.” 

As Madame Daudierne appeared much affected, the 
doctor was silent for some time in order to give her time 
to recover her self-possession. In the meantime, ten paces 
behind them another dialogue had been going on. 

“ So the doctor confessed,” said Germaine, u that he 
was commissioned to make a proposal? ” 

“ He did not confess it, for I had asked him no ques- 
tions about it. He said so of his own free will.” 

“ Did he say whether it was for me or for my sister! ” 

“ No, Mademoiselle, and I did not ask him, for I was 
afraid it might be for yourself.” 


13G 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


“ Let it be for me; the wedding won’t come off, all the 
same. I am going to marry the man I choose. I can 
tell you that much. But didn’t Dr. Subligny mention 
the name of the suitor? ” 

“ No, Mademoiselle, but I think I know who it is. 
The doctor had a call to-day from young du Pommeval.” 

“ Good ! It is not my liberty they are trying to cut 
short. M. du Pommeval is very much taken with Lau- 
rence, and I think she is well disposed toward him. I 
shall be very glad if the marriage takes place.” 

u And for my part I trust sincerely that you are not 
mistaken as to the intentions of M. du Pommeval.” 

“ I can’t be mistaken. . In the first place he has always 
shown a decided preference for my sister, and then she 
is the elder and ought to be married first. The contrary 
would be absurd. Besides, if the affair was about me, 
Dr. Subligny would have chosen a better time to present 
his case. He is taking advantage of Laurence’s absence. 
You just see if the matrimonial conference does not stop 
the minute she appears. The doctor will come quietly 
and join us and mamma will call Laurence and tell her 
the news.” 

“ God grant that it may be so,” murmured the lieutenant. 

As they exchanged ideas in a low voice, Madame 
Daudierne resumed the conversation with the doctor in 
a firmer tone. 

“ You know me well enough, doctor, to know that I 
am no friend of forced marriages. I chose M. Daud- 
ierne, though he had no money, and my married life was 
very pleasant. I shall not influence my daughter’s de- 
cision.” 

“ You can at least advise her.” 

“ Most assuredly; but I shall leave it to herself to ac- 
cept or refuse M. du Pommeval.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


137 


“ Precisely. I only beg of you to lose no time, for the 
poor fellow is dying with impatience.” 

u V ery well ; as soon as Laurence comes I will find 
out what she thinks of the offer.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Madame, but I don’t quite follow 
you. You mentioned Mademoiselle Laurence? ” 

“ Of course; I cannot decide without her.” 

“ Why so? I am here to ask for the hand of Madam- 
oiselle Germaine. I cannot see how her sister’s opinion 
becomes indispensable.” 

“Germaine!” cried Madame Daudierne. “ Does M. 
du Pomm^val want to marry Germaine?” 

“ Why, yes;” said the doctor with a laugh. “ I was 
wrong not to mention her name in the first instance, but 
I had no idea that there was any misapprehension as to my 
young friend’s intentions.” 

“ My surprise is quite natural. Your friend openly paid 
attention to Laurence, who was well aware of it. How 
could I guess he was thinking of her sister ? ” 

“It must be all a mistake, for he is madly in love with 
Germaine. That is just like lovers. They are always 
afraid of betraying their preferences, and to hide them 
they act these little comedies which pass for realities. 
But I will bet that Mademoiselle Germaine knows how 
the land lies.” 

“ W ell, on the contrary, I do not believe she has the 
slightest notion that she has inspired this young man 
with love. He has paid her attentions such as he has 
paid to a great many other girls, but I am sure he never 
made love to her. Germaine would have told me about it.” 

“ Perhaps she will tell you, when you inform her of 
the proposal I have made you.” 

“ Very well, I will do so. The situation of my two 
daughters must not be prolonged.” 


138 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Your two daughters, Madame? Ah! I see. You 
think it will be hard for the elder to see her sister mar- 
ried before herself. That is true; but such things are 
happening every day. Besides, Mademoiselle Laurence 
will never want suitors. She is a charming girl, and if 
du Pommeval had taken my advice he would have tried 
to win her. But people in love don’t take advice.” 

“ Is he really so infatuated ? ” asked Madame Dau- 
dierne. 

“ He could not be more so. He can not sleep, and I 
really believe he would die of grief if he were refused.” 

“ I did not think he was so impassioned. He seemed to 
care for nothing but luxury, horse-racing, and worldly 
pleasure.” 

“ He was seeking distraction because he was afraid of 
a repulse, with his scanty income. Now, affairs have 
changed, and his only dream is of the bliss of a two fold 
existence.” 

“ V ery well ; if Germaine is satisfied I will do my best 
to promote their happiness. But I hope M. du Pom- 
m^val does not expect my daughter to say yes without 
reflection. She does not know him well, although she 
has seen him often. She knows how he can behave in 
a drawing-room, but she is ignorant of his character and 
I am sure she will not give her decision without a long 
and severe trial.” 

“ He will stand any tests she may wish to impose. 
What he wants now is to inaugurate the matrimonial 
process by obtaining the young lady’s consent. Besides, 
he could not marry with decency before he has comple- 
ted his term of mourning. Madamoiselle Germaine will 
have plenty of time to form her opinion.” 

“ Under these conditions, doctor, I am ready to ac- 
quaint my younger daughter with the proposal you 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


189 


make her in the name of M. du Pommeval. I will 
speak to her at once; it is just as well not to leave her 
alone with that young officer.” 

“ Oh, you need have no fear on his account. He is a 
true-hearted fellow, and knows quite well that a soldier 
of fortune, or rather a soldier without fortune, has no 
right to apply for the hand of a young lady like your 
daughter. I will rejoin them, and occupy his attention 
while you are settling the fate of Arthur du Pommeval. 
And there is Madamoiselle Laurence, who will help me 
to show him the beauties of your park.” 

With these words Dr. Subligny slackened his pace in 
order to fall back with the young people, who had just 
been joined by Laurence. She held in her hand a bunch 
of periwinkles, those sham violets which sometimes bloom 
in the fall, and was looking with some curiosity at Roger, 
wffiom the doctor hastened to introduce. 

Madame Daudierne took Germaine by the arm, and 
led her gently away, while the doctor, to distract the 
attention of the officer and the elder sister, called their 
notice to the immense magnolias whose fame extended 
for several miles around. 

“ My dear child, I have a great piece of news for 
you,” whispered Madame Daudierne in her daughter’s ear. 

“ Dear mamma, I think I have guessed it already,” 
said Germaine, gaily. “ The doctor has got on kid gloves 
and a dress coat. His style means marriage.” 

“You are quite a prophet. Dr. Subligny comes in 
behalf of ” 

“ Of M. du Pommeval ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ To ask you for the hand of Madamoiselle Laurence 
Daudierne.” 

“No; for yours.” 


140 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Mine ! ” cried Germaine, truly astonished, “ that 
cannot be possible. M. du Pommeval wants to marry 
Laurence. He has been in love with her for three years, 
and the last time he was here he took no pains to hide 
his love. He had no eyes — and no waltzes, either — for 
anyone but my darling sister.” 

“You must have misunderstood him. Dr. Subligny 
has explained the matter in a very straightforward man- 
ner, and he is waiting to carry back your answer to his 
young friend. It only rests with yourself whether or 
not you become Madame du Pommeval.” 

“What, right away? No time to spare? But I am 
not in love with this fine millionaire, and all I know 
about him is that he can dance well.” 

“ At any rate you do not dislike him.” 

“ No, and I think he is even less distasteful to Lau- 
rence. What ever possessed him to propose to me? 
Girls ought to marry according to seniority, and it is not 
my turn yet.” 

“ Listen to me, and don’t be silly. Y ou need not be- 
come engaged right away. M. du Pommeval only 
wants permission to pay his attentions to you, and to 
come more often to La Germoniere ” 

“ But he comes now whenever he wants to — he is here 
all the time, and he has had plenty of chances to declare 
himself. Whatever inspired him to send some one else 
to propose for him ? He must be awfully bashful if he 
has to get permission to tell me what he thinks and 
wants of me. I don’t know whether he loves me or 
not as he pretends to, but he certainly goes about it in a 
very queer way.” 

“ You must reflect, my dear Germaine, that in our so- 
ciety such matters are always conducted in this way. 
You would be the first one to take offense if a young man 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


141 


was to offer himself to you between the figure’s of a 
quadrille. M. du Pommeval has only conformed to cus- 
tom in making his first proposals to the lady’s mother.” 

“ But should’nt the young lady have some idea that 
she is going to be proposed for? I know I didn’t expect 
it. I thought he wanted Laurence, and as she does not 
look like me, I had no idea of his changing so abruptly 
from dark to fair, from wisdom to folly. In fact, I am 
not prepared to answer him.” 

“ But I must give some answer. Would it displease 
you if I were to show M. du Pommeval any encourage- 
ment ? ” 

“ Encouragement is a little too strong. It will be 
quite enough to allow him to continue his visits.” 

“ Then you do not absolutely repulse his advances? ” 

“ I reserve my liberty.” 

“You know very well I do not want to deprive you 
of that. Only permit me to say that this young man is 
very rich.” 

“ Too rich for me.” 

“ And that the magnificent estate he has just inherited 
adjoins La Germoniere to which we are so much at- 
tached.” 

u I do not think that has any thing to do with the 
matter.” 

“ And then such a marriage would place you among 
the first circles here in the country where we spend so 
much time.” 

“ I should dazzle the Arcy people, I have no doubt.” 

“ As for the personal qualities of M. du Pommeval, 
you alone must be the judge. But you can only become 
acquainted with them by giving him the opportunity to 
show them. All I ask of you is not to give a hasty re- 
fusal which you may have cause to regret.” 


142 


WAS IT A MURDER t 


Madame Daudierne had taken the proper course and 
her moderation agreed with Germaine’s views. 

“ Very well,” she said, “ only I shall impose certain 
conditions. In the first place, I do not desire any change 
in our relations with M. du Pommeval. Let him 
come as he used to — oftener if he likes — and lay seige to 
my affections. I do not promise to surrender, but I will 
not make a prejudicial resistance. It is for him to win 
me, and if he really loves me he ought to succeed, for I 
believe that love is contagious. But if,” continued Ger- 
maine, laughing, “ he should discover that it is Laurence 
with whom he is in love, I shall not be angry.” 

“ You will never be serious. I shall only consider your 
engagement a conditional one, and shall so inform Dr. 
Subligny. Let us rejoin him.” 

The two groups mingled. Madame Daudierne took 
hold of the doctor’s arm, and whispered to him. 

“ I can give you no direct answer, as Germaine has not 
made up her mind. She wants time to reflect, but will 
be pleased to have M. du Pommeval continue his visits 
to La Germoniere.” 

“ That is all he can ask at present, and I will hasten to 
inform him of my success. I will now take my leave 
and take away the young soldier who excited your alarm 
— you will wish to talk with M. Armand and the young 
ladies.” 

“ Yes, I shall have to consult with my brother-in-law, 
and I must let my elder daughter know that M. du 
Pommeval has proposed for her sister.” 

Laurence came up just as her mother mentioned her 
name. 

“ Can you tell me, doctor,” said the forsaken maiden, 
“ why the Arcy gentlemen abandon us so? there has been 
no one here for three days.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


143 


While Dr. Subligny was explaining that the recent 
death had interrupted the social engagements of the 
young men of fashion, Germaine said to Roger, “ I 
have changed my mind. I shall not tell my mother 
what happened at Lemon Rock.” 

w I know why you have changed your mind, Mademo- 
iselle,” said Roger, sadly, “ and I think with you that 
my only course is to try and forget you.” 

“ You have guessed that M. du Pommeval has made 
me an offer,” said Germaine quickly, “ but you don’t 
know yet what my answer was, and I am going to tell 
you. I said that I would reserve my decision, but in the 
meantime M. du Pommeval might continue his visits as 
heretofore.” 

“ Isn’t that equivalent to an engagement? ” 

“ Perhaps he may think so; but what if he does? I 
have a reason for not wanting to close our doors to him, 
and I will tell you if you will keep it a secret.” 

“ Are you afraid to trust me? ” 

“No; and to prove it, this is the secret. I know Lau- 
rence loves M. du Pommeval, and I want her to marry 
him.” 

“ But he does not love her — he wants you? ” 

“He fancies so, maybe; but I shall show him he is 
mistaken. You see that I am not at all afraid. And 
now that I have confided my plans, I trust I shall see 
you again. When my uncle goes to Bretteville to ten- 
der his thanks, he will be sure to ask you to call. But 
there is no use of your waiting for him to-day, for he 
will not be back before night.” 

Roger, who was overcome with emotion and joy, was 
about to answer, when the doctor cut him short by say- 

in or 
11 A S» 

“ Well, my dear fellow, it is growing late, and they 


144 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


will be waiting for me at Arcy. As your commission is 
fulfilled, I can take you on your way home as far as the 
turn in the road to Bretteville.” 

“ I hope, Monsieur, you will visit us again soon,” said 
Madame Daudierne in a kind manner. “ My brother 
will be sure to call upon you.” 

Under any other circumstances the good lady would 
never have permitted a stranger to take his departure 
without offering him the hospitalities of her house; but 
the communication of Dr. Subligny had so much agitated 
her, that she infringed the most elementary regulations 
of polite intercourse. Besides, no one wanted to prolong 
this open air confabulation. Germaine had gained her 
object. Laurence, who suspected that her mother’s talk 
with the doctor had reference to herself, was anxious to 
satisfy her doubts. The doctor was in a hurry to carry 
the good news to the young lover, and Roger wanted to 
be alone, where he could realize his good fortune. 
Although he was hopeful, he could hardly believe yet 
that Germaine would decide to choose him in preference 
to Arthur du Pommeval and his millions. 

The future had many strange surprises in store for the 
personages of this drama, whose first act was played at 
the ferry of the Beuvron. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Socially, the human race is divided into various cate- 
gories, each of which has its own particular manners, 
tastes and instincts. 

In F ranee, there are well-bred people and those who 
are not so; there are Parisians and provincials, without 
counting many sub-divisions which differ essentially from 
one another. 

A pure Parisian has more points of contact with a 
Russian than with the inhabitant of a small town. 

Arthur du Pommeval belonged to a variety which is 
tending to disappear; he pretended to be the leader of 
society at Arcy and at the same time to enjoy a certain 
prominence in Paris, where he passed six months of the 
year. 

In general, young provincials who attempt to cut a 
dash very quickly settle down into one thing or the other. 

Some, disdaining the successes of a small town, dash 
boldly and without thought of returning into the great 
furnace where fortunes melt like wax. Almost all burn 
their wings there, but there are also some who obtain a 
footing upon the slippery pavement of the boulevards 
and establish a place for themselves there. These, at 
the end of a few years, lose all taste for the country, be- 
come more Parisian than the Parisians themselves, and 
remain Parisians forever. 

Others, and these are the more numerous, recognize 
quickly enough that they will never become accustomed 
to being confounded with the crowd, and return to the 
easier and less costly triumphs which await them in their 
-145- 10 


146 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


native place; they content themselves with astonishing 
their fellow-townsmen by follies which do not pass cer- 
tain bounds and by a luxury which isn't ruinous. Then, 
when the proper time comes, they marry, and resign 
themselves contentedly enough to pass their lives in eat- 
ing good dinners, paying friendly calls, playing whist at 
five sous a corner, and making hunting expeditions, where 
it is necessary to tramp for six hours to kill one partridge. 

Some of them even descend to passing their evenings 
in the commercial room of the hotel with commercial 
travelers and petty clerks. 

Arthur du Pommevai had not yet reached this point, 
and he trusted he never would. He had not given up 
being leader of Arcy, but he was much more anxious 
not to lose his Parisian connections. 

Arthur inherited from his father a very pronounced 
tendency to rise above his station and to push his way in 
society. His father had formerly made great pretensions ; 
to rank and elegance. It had cost him half his fortune * 
to shine in Paris and to be on intimate terms with the 
landed gentlemen of his province. 

But Arthur also inherited from his mother, M. Vig- 
nemal’s sister, a very solid fund of order and prudence, 
two qualities essentially provincial. 

An orphan at fifteen, of age at eighteen, he had com- 
menced by making inroads on his capital, driving four 
horses through the streets of Arcy in the summer, and 
showing himself in the winter at all the first nights of 
the Parisian theatres. But he had always thought to marry 
advantageously, when he should find an opportunity. 
This opportunity had not yet presented itself and his v 
fortune was already greatly diminished, when Madame 
Daudierne first began to pass her summers at La Ger- 
moniere with her children. 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


147 


It occurred to Arthur that he might find here what he . 
was looking for. The two daughters were charming, 
perfectly well-bred, and possessed of admirable qualities. 
The mother was considered to have a handsome fortune, 
and Uncle Armand, who was very rich, showed no dis- 
position to disinherit his nieces. For a young man, who 
had impaired his fifteen thousand livres of income, these 
young ladies were very good matches, and du Pommeval 
commenced to lay his plans in consequence. He saw 
them often during their stay in the •country, and met 
them in Paris at the houses they frequented. His first 
advances had not been very successful. He was wel- 
comed cordially, but the intimacy made no progress until 
M. Armand Daudierne’s installation at his sister-in-law’s 
chateau offered the enterprising Arthur new facilities. 

The old gentleman, who was glad to have lively peo- 
ple about him to make his stay in the country pass pleas- 
antly, took a fancy' to the young man. And M. du 
Pommeval, given a standing invitation and being allowed 
to come almost every day to La Germoniere, was at last 
able to begin serious operations. 

He lacked neither intelligence nor tact, and he took 
care not to declare himself at once as a suitor. He felt 
that he must first gain Madame Daudierne’s confidence 
and make sure of Uncle Armand’s support, whose voice 
would have great weight in the matter; and then that 
he must try discreetly to please the two sisters, to feel 
his way in advance, and finally to propose for the one 
who seemed to respond to his advances. He found them 
both very agreeable, and his choice was not made. 

It should be said that in the beginning of his matrimo- 
nial campaign, he was in no position to choose. Either 
of the two young girls would have done him honor by 
consenting to marry him, and it was very difficult to de- 


148 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


cide, before knowing them better, which would suit him. 
They were equal in beauty, although Germaine’s was 
perhaps more sympathetic. 

And as the marriage to which he aspired could only 
be a love-match, as the ladies were in a position to find 
in Paris husbands of greater wealth and higher rank 
than Arthur du Pommeval, it was absolutely necessary 
to inspire one of them with a strong enough sentiment to 
lead her to disregard the inconveniences of an alliance 
with a young man who possessed only an embarrassed 
fortune. 

He had therefore carefully abstained from showing 
any preference, and he had hoped to make his natural ad- 
vantages tell. He was a handsome fellow, of good ap- 
pearance and fine manners. He danced admirably, and 
he understood how to talk to women, which is a very 
rare accomplishment. He was not lacking in conceit, 
but he did not let it appear, and although he was by no 
means impressionable, he was quite capable of falling 
in love. In short, his good qualities surpassed his faults. 

With so many advantages and that savoirfaire which 
knowledge of the world gives, he could scarcely fail to 
succeed at La Germoniere, and he had succeeded. But 
from the mixed system he had put in practice two things 
had resulted which he had not foreseen. 

Laurence loved him, and he himself was violently 
smitten with Germaine, who did not care for him at all. 
His prudent calculations had turned against himself, and 
he was well punished for having vacillated instead of 
declaring himself frankly. 

Love is a passion which is not adapted to compromise 
and hesitation. Love has nothing in common with ex- 
pediency, and it takes revenge on those who try to re- 
strain it or to make it accord with self-interest. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


149 


The wise manoeuvres of Arthur du Pommeval had 
only resulted in placing him between two disagreeable 
alternatives; to give up a young girl whom he adored 
and marry one who only half pleased him, or not to 
marry at all; for he understood very well that Mad- 
emoiselle Laurence Daudierne must be married first, and 
that the rules of the matrimonial hierarchy would not be 
transgressed in order to please him. 

Another would have • considered himself beaten, and 
would have retired from the field. But du Pommeval 
had the courage to remain and to conceal his sentiments, 
until he saw what the future had in reserve. He paid 
assiduous court to Mademoiselle Laurence while by no 
means neglecting her sister. Laurence was deceived, 
but Germaine saw clearly enough. She guessed that he 
ran with the hare and held with the hounds, as the say- 
ing is, and that finally, rather than remain a bachelor, he 
would accept either of the two sisters he could get. 

Things were in this state when the ferry accident 
made a millionaire of M. Vignemal’s nephew, and, to 
do him justice, he never once thought of taking his 
choice and his new fortune elsewhere, although now he 
could have married much more advantageously. 

But he thought that there was no longer any reason 
why he should not manifest his preference for Germaine. 
In the higher middle classes they do not refuse to estab- 
lish a younger sister before an elder one, when an excep- 
tional opportunity offers. 

In acting thus du Pommeval would break no promise. 
He had allowed Mademoiselle Laurence to think that he 
aspired to her hand, but he had been very careful not to 
engage himself by too strong words, words which escape 
from sincere lovers and which are the same as a promise. 

He honestly believed himself free, and it seemed to 


150 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


him quite natural to follow his inclination, now that he 
was in a position to do so. The provincial reappeared 
in him. His mother’s lessons bore their fruits. She had 
taught him from his childhood that money is the master 
of the world, and that everything is possible to one who 
is rich. He sincerely pitied Laurence, whom he forsook,, 
and he did not doubt his power to make himself agreea- 
ble to Germaine, who did not love him yet, but who 
certainly would do so soon, for she could not fail to be 
flattered at seeing the king of the gilded youth of Arcy 
lay at her feet his heart and his fortune. 

He considered himself very generous and very chival- 
rous to behave thus, and certainly if he had not been in 
love he would not have returned to La Germoniere. He 
would have installed himself in Paris, where fashion 
throws wide open its doors to heirs in search of a wife* 

On the contrary, he had not lost a moment in declar- 
ing himself, since the next day but one after the death 
of his uncle he had sent Dr. Subligny as his ambassador. 
The doctor had brought him an encouraging answer* 
but at the same time he had not hidden the opinion of 
the president of the tribunal on the point of law which 
was of interest to the heirs of M. and Madame Vis:- 
nemal. 

The presumption of survival did not apply in this par- 
ticular case, and M. du Pommeval must prove that his 
uncle died last; otherwise Madame Vignemal’s will 
would be null and void, and her entire fortune would go 
to her relatives. 

This was a thunder clap to poor Arthur. Dr. Sub- 
ligny indeed told him that the president thought he had 
a very good case, wherefore he, Jean Subligny, ex-sur- 
geon-major, and chevalier of the Legion of Honor, had 
considered it best to fulfil his mission to Madame Daud- 


OR , WIIO IS THE HEIR? 


151 


ierne; he had also added that, personally, he was sure 
he could bring forward medical proofs that the husband 
must have survived the wife; but, nevertheless, Arthur, 
awakened from his illusions, fell into profound discour- 
agement. 

Four days rolled by, and he had not recovered from 
the blow, all the more severe to him because the news of 
the change in the situation had not yet reached the ears 
of the people of Arcy. The doctor had kept the secret, 
and in following the funeral of the Vignemals, who 
were buried side by side in the cemetery of their village, 
du Pommeval had seen from the looks of hate cast at 
him by his aunt’s cousins that they believed the law was 
against them. He was treated everywhere as the heir, 
and he did not dare to confide his anxiety to any one. 

But it would not be long before the truth was known. 
The poor relations of Madame Vignemal were not peo- 
ple to give up their cousin’s fortune without consulting a 
lawyer, and lawyers do not make blunders in interpret- 
ing the articles of the Civil Code. Such errors are 
pardonable only in civilians and doctors, who haven’t 
studied law. 

It was time for du Pommeval to take some action, and 
above all to decide on what footing he should present 
himself at La Germoniere. He had not been there since 
the doctor had brought him permission to go as often as 
he pleased. The death and burial of the victims of the 
ferry accident would excuse an absence for a few days, 
but the time had come for him to reappear on the scene, 
and to leave his house to which decency, and above all, 
the fear of hearing bad news had confined him. It was 
absolutely necessary for him to reappear in the streets of 
Arcy, to face the questions of the curious citizens, or else 
people would think he had abandoned the inheritance. It 


152 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


was necessary, also, for him to go and thank Madame 
Daudierne, to commence the probation which Germaine 
imposed upon him, to guard against Laurence’s resent- 
ment, and, worse than all this, to talk matters over with 
Uncle Armand, who would be sure to introduce the 
grave question of his entering into possession. 

What should he say to him ? To lie was repugnant 
to du Pommeval, and besides the truth would be known 
some day. The doctor was not there to advise him ; he 
had been called to Paris for a consultation. Du Pom- 
meval, after much hesitation, decided to ask the presi- 
dent what he thought of his case. 

The matter was a delicate one to manage, for the pres- 
ident had the well-deserved reputation of being a magis- 
trate strongly devoted to his professional duties and very 
inaccessible to appeals, from whatever direction they 
came. 

Moreover, he hadn’t a very high opinion of Arthur, 
who he thought wasted his money and led anything 
but a correct life. 

But he had once been very intimate with M. du Pom- 
meval, the father of this spendthrift and a spendthrift 
himself. He could scarcely refuse advice to his son. 

Besides, according to Dr. Subligny, he was well dis- 
posed toward M. Vignemal’s heir; he had even hinted 
that the case would be judged as favorably as possible 
to his claims. 

Du Pommeval had too much tact to take advantage of 
a confidence, which Dr. Subligny should not have be- 
trayed, and he would take very good care not to make 
any allusion to it in his conversation with the president, 
but nothing prevented him from talking over his pain- 
ful position with his father’s old friend, and asking him 
what was necessary to be done in this particular case. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


153 


His resolution being taken and his course prepared, 
Arthur ordered his coachman to harness his coup£ and 
be in readiness to start for La Germoniere. He must 
go there, if he did not wish to be thought im- 
polite, whatever the president’s advice might be. 
And even if his cause should be lost in advance be- 
fore the tribunal, Arthur did not despair of pre- 
serving the good graces of the Daudierne family. In 
his position, frankness was the best policy. His plan was 
to tell all, and, if necessary, to declare that he feared 
losing the Vignemals’ fortune; then, the avowal once 
made, to indulge in sentimental variations of this easily 
developed motive. “ When I learned that I was going 
to be rich, my first thought was to ask the hand of Mad- 
emoiselle Germaine, to which I did not dare to aspire 
when I was poor. I learned to-day that I was mistaken, 
and that I shall remain what I was. My duty is to in- 
form you of this, and to withdraw my suit, without 
availing myself of the authorization you were kind 
enough to accord me. It is a great pain to me to re- 
nounce my dearest hope, but honor demands it.” 

Arthur knew Madame Daudierne and her daughters 
too well to have any doubt as to the answer they would 
make to this. He knew that they would not be willing 
to be behind him in generosity, and that the doors of the 
chateau would not be closed to him. He asked nothing 
more for the time being. It rested with him to derive 
advantage from the new situation of affairs, and he could 
flatter himself that his disinterested conduct would pro- 
cure for him Germaine’s sympathy. 

The romantic side which pleases young girls was lack- 
ing to du Pommeval, the heir of a great fortune; mis- 
fortune would give it to him. 

The president, who could enlighten him, had no case 


154 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


to try that day, and when he was not in court, he could 
almost always be found at home ; but he lived at the 
other end of the city, and du Pommeval was obliged to 
take a long walk to see him. He could have driven, 
there, but his visit would have been noticed, for in Arcy 
a carriage stopping before a house was an event. It was 
better to go on foot, at the risk of being waylaid by the 
curious and indiscreet. Therefore, Arthur, in deep 
mourning, directed his step toward the unfrequented 
quarters, where resided President Lestrigon — an old 
name in that part of the country, a queer name well 
suited to this magistrate of the old school, — and the heir, 
who had been in the minds and on the tongues of every 
one since the disaster, hoped to encounter no one on his 
way. 

He walked fast, and he soon reached the heart of the 
city and the long street which was the usual lounging- 
place of all the idlers. By chance, to-day, there were 
few people out, and the balcony of the club was deserted, 
when du Pommeval arrived in front of the house where 
his friends often spent their nights. But as he passed, 
he heard a voice from above call him by name. He 
looked up and saw, in a window on the first floor, young 
Alfred Daudierne, who beckoned to him to come up. 

In his present state of mind, du Pommeval would have 
preferred not to meet Germaine’s brother. 

He had not seen him for quite a long time; Alfred had 
left Arcy some hours before the sad accident which had 
troubled the repose of the inhabitants of La Germoniere^ 
and he was not expected back so soon, for when his 
mother allowed him to go to Paris, he was never at a loss 
for excuses to remain as long as possible. 

w What are you doing there?” cried from the window 
this half-fledged dude. “ I was just making up my mind 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


155 


to go to your house before returning to the maternal 
roof. And there yqu are ! That decides me to remain 
here till to-morrow morning. Come up, my dear fellow.” 

“ Impossible just now,” answered du Pommeval. “ I 
have a call to make.” 

“A call! Do you do such things ? You, a thorough 
Parisian? I don’t. I can tell you. You can make your 
call later.” 

“No, I am expected. It is on an important matter.” 

u I, too, want to speak to you on an important matter 
— for me.” 

“Can’t you come down? I don’t care to enter the 
club.” 

“Comedown! Never in the world! I might meet 
my uncle, and I should receive a frightful sermon. And 
then we can’t talk quietly in the street.” 

“ Nor up there, either. We should be disturbed every 
moment.” 

“No, it is perfectly deserted. Five or six old coons 
playing dummy or reading the papers, that’s all. Come 
up, please.” 

“ No, it wouldn’t be proper; I am in mourning.” 

“ Oh, yes, Uncle Vignemal has kicked the bucket, and 
Aunt Vignemal, too. I heard that; and you inherit a 
pretty penny on which you didn’t count. You’re lucky. 
That’s a chance that will never happen to me. In the 
name of your millions, my dear du Pommeval, I beg you 
to come up. I have a favor to ask of you, a great 
favor.” 

Du Pommeval cursed in his heart Alfred and his per- 
sistence, but he did not wish to lose an opportunity of 
being agreeable to Germaine’s brother, and he said to 
himself that after all he could leave him after ten min- 
utes’ conversation. 


156 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ There is nothing I would not do to oblige you, and 
as you have a favor to ask me I am at your service.” 

After having given this answer, which the condition 
of affairs imposed on him, du Pommeval entered the 
dark entry which served as a vestibule to the club, which 
the old inhabitants of Arcy persisted in calling the Lit- 
erary Club, although there “was very little done there in 
a literary way. 

This club only vaguely recalled the clubs in Paris. 
The antechamber was not filled with liveried servants, 
and the furniture was distinguished only by its simplicity. 
Five wainscoted rooms, many straw chairs and a dozen 
cane sofas, card tables whose baize tops lacked freshness, 
and a billiard table bought at an auction sale of the ef- 
fects of a bankrupt cafe. 

This shabby place was, however, much frequented, 
and the best people of Arcy were as anxious to belong 
to it as a young man of wealth and rank in Paris is to 
be admitted to the Jockey Club, and it was very exclus- 
ive in its membership. 

But this was not the time of day at which the young 
loungers resorted there to celebrate the mysteries of bac- 
carat. Games of chance were only played with closed 
doors, after the old people had gone home to bed. 

And just now there were only a few respectable mid- 
dle-aged men there, some seated down to a quiet rubber, 
and others nodding over the newspapers which had been 
received that morning from Paris. 

Arthur du Pommeval’s entrance passed, therefore, al- 
most unnoticed ; and Alfred, who had gone to the door 
to meet him, drew him into the billiard-room, which was 
empty. 

“ I did not know that you had returned,” said du Pom- 
meval. “When v did ypu arrive?” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


157 


w To-day at half-past twelve. I have had five hours’ 
shaking up on the railroad, and as I did not go to bed 
last night I am about worn out.” 

“ Then you haven’t seen your mother yet?” 

“ No. I am in no hurry to go to La Germoniere. I 
can very well afford to postpone the reception awaiting 
me there. I have been thinking of hiring a room in the 
city, in order to escape from the constant nagging at 
home. My mother and my uncle will make a fine row 
when they find out my secret, and my sister Laurence 
won’t be too easy on me ; but Germaine is all right. 
She is a sensible girl.” 

“ Is it indiscreet to ask you what crime you have com- 
mitted?” said du Pommeval smiling. 

“ Indiscreet? No, indeed. I called you up here on 
purpose to tell you. The fact of it is, my dear fellow, 
I was foolish enough to gamble when I was in Paris, 
and I owe five hundred louis which I must pay at once. 
If my uncle should find it out I don’t know what would 
become of me.” 

“ He would help you out of your trouble, I am sure.” 

“ He! It is plain you don’t know him. He has some 
of the most ridiculous ideas about life. He would throw 
a maxim at my head, and that is all I should get from 
him. I can hear him say , 4 My boy, you are on the road 
to dishonor. If I should pay your debt, you would in- 
cur another of the same sort. You had better be dis- 
honored at once. It will cost less dear, and it will pre- 
vent you beginning again.’ ” 

“ I can hardly believe that M. Daudierne would be- 
have so in a case like this.” 

“ Oh, yes he would. He wouldn’t give me a sou, I 
know. My mother would be easier to manage, but 
there would be a tearful scene, which I wish to avoid at 


158 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


all costs. Ah ! if Germaine had money enough ; but I 
bet she hasn’t sixty louis in the world. Now, my dear 
fellow, I don’t see any one but you who can help me out 
of this scrape.” 

Du Pommeval was expecting this conclusion, but he 
wasn*t much pleased at it. The sum was a round one, 
and in his present financial condition he was rather un- 
willing to risk it. On the other hand, he felt that a re- 
fusal might provoke a quarrel with Alfred, and he did 
not care to make an enemy at La Germoniere. 

“ I have made a fool of myself, I acknowledge,” said 
Alfred, rather disconcerted at du Pommeval’s hesitation 
in answering him. u One ought not to borrow of a 
friend, I know, and I hope you will believe that, if I 
were of age, I would go to a money-lender. But my 
signature is no good, and I thought that four thousand 
francs for a few months would not inconvenience you. 
I say four thousand so that I shan’t be dead-broke after 
paying my debt.” 

“ I will lend them to you very willingly,” said du Pom- 
meval, who had made up his mind and conceived a pro- 
ject suggested by the request for a loan. 

“ Thanks, old man! ” cried young Daudierne, seizing 
his hand. “ I knew you were a good fellow, and that I 
wasn’t wrong to count upon you. Ah ! if they consult 
me over there at La Germoniere I needn’t tell you what 
my advice will be. We are intimate enough for me to 
speak openly to you ; so I promise you, if you ever want 
to enter our family, I shall be only too happy to have a 
brother-in-law like you.” 

The speech was outrageous, and du Pommeval had 
not foreseen that Alfred, in his enthusiasm, would go so 
far as to offer him his aid in deciding his mother to listen 
favorably to an offer of marriage. 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


159 


“ I have the appearance of throwing my sisters at your 
head,” continued the young idiot, “ but I know to whom 
I am speaking, and I am pretty far-sighted. I guessed 
your sentiments.” 

“ If you had gone to La Germoniere, before coming 
to Arcy,” responded du Pommeval gravely, “ you would 
have learned, my dear Alfred, that, last Thursday, Dr. 
Subligny asked on my part Madame Daudierne for her 
daughter’s hand.” 

“ Really ? I am delighted. And Laurence must be 
even more pleased than I, for I will not conceal from 
you any longer that — ” 

“ I asked for the hand of Mademoiselle Germaine,” 
interrupted du Pommeval. 

“ Ah ! Bah ! that’s odd. I imagined that — but never 
mind. I hope that they answered you — yes.” 

“ Not exactly. Mademoiselle Germaine has done me 
the honor not to refuse me, and I am allowed to come 
every day to La Germoniere.” 

“ Good. That is the programme in all families. You 
must know each other before being engaged, as if you 
two did not know each other well enough. But be 
easy. You will be married after Lent. If my little sis- 
ter did not like you, she would not have authorized 
you to pay her attention. My mother would have re- 
turned to Paris to cut short all interviews, while here 
we are shut up in the country until New-Year. It is 
beastly, but I am resigned, since you are agoing to 
marry Germaine. And I don’t pity her, nor you either. 
She is charming; she has every good quality. As for 
you, my dear fellow, I don’t wish to make you blush, 
and, besides, you know what I think of you. And then 
you have become a millionaire, to boot.” 

“ Not yet.” 


160 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ It is all the same. Old daddy Sourdas, who is play- 
ing whist over there, has just explained your affairs to 
me. He plays whist like a donkey, but he knows the 
Civil Code by heart, and it seems that by virtue of some 
article or other, your uncle being presumed to have sur- 
vived his wife — ” 

“ M. Sourdas is mistaken, and others have been mis- 
taken also, I among them. But I am better informed 
now, and if I had been so sooner, I should not have dared 
to ask for Mademoiselle Germaine’s hand. The deed is 
done, to my great regret, for Madame Daudierne will 
perhaps accuse me of not having told her the truth as 
to my situation.” 

“What! you do not inherit! but it is impossible! The 
law—” 

“ The law is against me. I shall inherit if I prove 
that Madame Vignemal died before her husband.” 

“ Well, you will prove it.” 

“ It will be difficult. One man alone was there when 
the accident happened ; he saw them disappear at the same 
moment, when the boat upset; a few minutes afterward, 
he found Madame Vignemal; she had been thrown up 
on the bank, and she gave no signs of life, but the body 
of my uncle was not found till the next day, and at a 
great distance from the place where the ferry was. 
You see that the circumstances of the affair are against 
me.” 

“ I don’t see that at all. Your uncle may have swam 
for half an hour and been drowned when his strength 
gave out.” 

“ I don’t believe he knew how to swim. And even 
if he did, that would prove nothing. A witness is nec- 
essary, I tell you, a witness worthy of belief who will 
testify before the tribunal that he saw M. Vignemal in 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


161 


the water, a long time after the disaster, that he heard 
him cry out, call for aid.” 

44 The devil! Are those the conditions? ” 

44 So long as this witness does not come forward, I 
shall be in an uncertainty which is terrible to me, not 
for myself, for I could easily resign myself to remain 
what I am, but I can not endure the idea of having in- 
voluntarily deceived Madame Daudierne.” 

44 Wait a minute,” exclaimed Alfred, striking his fore- 
head ; 44 it seems to me that I remember a conversation 
I heard, and if the details of the event accord with the 
recital made before me, I will furnish you with your 
witness.” 

44 Are you speaking seriously?” asked du Pommeval, 
who had little faith in any testimony gathered by young 
Daudierne. 

44 Do you take me for an idiot ? I am silly enough at 
baccarat, but I should be the worst of fools if I should 
joke on such a serious subject as the interest of a friend, 
who is to become my brother-in-law. And I repeat, my 
dear fellow, that chance has given me the information 
which will make you gain your case.” 

44 1 am delighted, but I don’t see how that can be. 
You have been away for several days, and when you 
returned to Arcy this morning, you did not even know 
that my uncle and his wife were drowned.” 

44 That is true. I learned of the event here at the club, 
and I regret very much that I didn’t know it sooner, for 
if I had known it, there would have been no break in the 
story I am going to tell you. But in the first place, you 
must give me some details in regard to the accident. I 
would not like to raise false hopes, and I must be sure of 
certain points in order to know if the story I heard has 
any thing to do with your affair. It was last Tues- 

ii 


1G2 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


day, was it not, that the Vignemals were upset, crossing 
the Beuvron ferry ?” 

“ Tuesday, about nine o’clock in the evening. Your 
mother and M. Daudierne could tell you the exact time. 
They were in the salon and heard a cry, at the moment 
the accident happened.” 

“ Very well. Now, where were the bodies found? ” 

“ They were found the next day, in the afternoon ; Mad- 
am Vignemal’s upon the right bank, a kilometre below 
your park. She was thrown up once on the bank under 
the tamarinds, but the current bore her away again.” 

“That makes no difference; but I want to know 
where the husband was found?” 

“ On the left bank, but much lower down, not far 
from the Pont-aux-Mouettes.” 

“ Good ! And was the boat seen again ?” 

“Only pieces of it; it must have been carried down 
the river and dashed against one of the piles of the 
bridge, for one or two of the boards were fished out 
from under the first arch.” 

“ Better and better. Now, my dear friend, I am all 
right. The cat is bagged; that is to say, the inheritance 
is yours.” 

“You will oblige me very much if you will consent 
to explain yourself more clearly.” 

“ Very willingly. This is what happened to me, no 
later than this morning, on the railway. I was settled 
in a first-class compartment, where I hoped to go to 
sleep, for there was no one in it but myself. I was no 
sooner stretched on the cushions when in came a sort of 
a M. Prudhomme; a long, peaked, turned-up chin, a 
nose like the beak of a crow, gold eye-glasses, all were 
there. This caricature jumped into the carriage and 
settled himself in the other corner. I was already in a 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


163 


rage, but there was still worse to follow. A minute af- 
terward another fool placed himself opposite the first, 
a little dried-up fellow who looked like a provincial 
bailiff or a village money-lender. I was furious. I lit 
a big cigar, without asking permission to smoke. I 
hoped to drive them out. Not at all. The little old 
man sneezed, M. Prudhomme cast angry looks at me 
through his eyeglasses, but they both kept their places 
and didn’t budge.” 

“Your adventure is amusing, but I am upon thorns; 
if you could abridge it a little — ” 

“ I am ooming to the point, and you will lose nothing 
by being patient. I finished my cigar, and was trying 
to go to sleep, when the two idiots began to talk. Re- 
member, they did not know each other, and they ex- 
changed tiresome platitudes. I had a good mind to 
commence singing 4 So Much the Worse for Her,’ in 
the hope of shutting them up. Finally the man with 
the eyeglass asked his opposite neighbor if he had not- 
iced whether the papers said anything about an accident 
near Arcy-sur-Beuvron. The other answered no — and 
indeed I have seen nowhere anything about the death of 
the Vignemals.” 

“Nor I, either, but how did this man know of it?” 

“ He saw something of it, my boy.” 

“ Impossible. My uncle’s servant accompanied his 
master and mistress to the ferry, and he saw no one. 
There was indeed a vagabond there, whose conduct is 
open to suspicion, but — ” 

“ This vagabond has nothing in common with the dig- 
nified traveler who related in my presence the following 
moving narrative. Listen to me attentively; it will be 
the same as if you heard him. I possess great talent for 
imitation.” 


164 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


Du Pommeval cursed the untimely chatter of his 
future brother-in-law, but he would have gained nothing 
by interrupting him, and he resigned himself to the 
infliction of the flow of words in the hope of drawing 
some useful information from them. 

44 4 I must tell you, monsieur,’ commenced the incorrigi- 
ble Alfred, imitating the voice invented by Henry Mon- 
nier, ‘ I must tell you that I possess, not far from that 
little city a modest country house, where I often go to 
breathe, even in winter, the fresh air of the fields. This 
little box is situated on the bank of a stream of water 
which is not very wide or deep, but, nevertheless, rapid 
and dangerous at certain times.’” 

44 Alfred! My friend! I implore you!” 

44 Don’t worry yourself. I am coming to the point, I 
tell you. M. Prudhomme continued in these words: 4 I 
had been there for about a week when, Tuesday even- 
ing, I was called back to Paris by pressing business. 
Although the weather was frightful I started to take 
the train which leaves at a quarter to ten from the Pont- 
aux-Mouettes station.’ Ah, you commence to look in- 
terested.” 

44 Is it possible that this man saw — ” 

44 My dear fellow, you will owe your fortune to that 
imbecile. As he was crossing the. bridge he heard cries 
of distress. He looked over the parapet and perceived 
an unfortunate man clinging to an overturned boat; al- 
most immediately the boat was dashed to pieces against 
one of the piles, and all disappeared.” 

44 But this imbecile is a wretch ! He should have 
leaped into the water and tried to save the man, or at 
least gone for aid. And he continued tranquilly on his 
way ?” 

44 Y es, indeed. He doesn’t know how to swim, and he 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


165 


feared to lose the quarter to ten train. He ran to the 
station, which is three hundred metres from the bridge. 
The train was there. He had scarcely time to get on 
board. But before leaving he took care to tell an em- 
ploye of what he had witnessed, but the man did not 
think it best to leave his post to go to the river. It is 
unheard of, but it is true. W ell, what do you say to my 
story ?'” continued Alfred. “ Do you doubt that your 
uncle was still living half an hour after the accident ?” 

“No; although the gypsy said that he disappeared 
when the boat was upset.” 

“ Your gypsy lied, or he did not see clearly. Your 
uncle fell into the water, but he rose again to the surface, 
and grasped the boat, which was floating keel upward ; 
he clung to it and was carried away with it. He would 
have been saved, perhaps, if the current hadn’t thrown 
him against the bridge. However, don’t suppose that 
my Prudhomme invented this story, which does him no 
honor. In general when a man acts like a coward he 
doesn’t boast of it.” 

“ That is true. But you should have asked him his 
name.” 

“ I never thought of that. Y ou understand that if I 
could have guessed that he was speaking of your uncle — 
but when I am in Paris I arrange so as to receive no 
letters from La Germoniere, and the old fellow’s narra- 
tive didn’t interest me much. I listened because his ri- 
diculous accent was amusing, and it is a wonder that I 
remembered it.” 

“ How can I find that man ?” 

“ That won’t be difficult.” 

“ Would you recognize him again?” 

“ Oh ! a league off. F aces like his are rare.” 

“ Good! But where is he?” 


1GG 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ At home, of course. In that box where he comes 
to breathe the air of the fields in winter. I forgot to 
tell you that he got out at the Pont-aux-Mouettes sta- 
tion.” 

“ Then, I am going there,” exclaimed du Pommeval. 

“We will go together, if you like, old fellow. But 
I don’t think it is worth while, for I forgot to add that 
the old man returned here expressly to institute an in- 
quiry in regard to the drowning man he abandoned for 
fear of losing his train and especially of risking his 
neck. He declared that he was resolved to make his de- 
position before the authorities of Arcy, and you can be 
sure that he will not let slip so fine an opportunity to 
give himself prominence. I should not be surprised if 
he went to-day to see the mayor, the sub-prefect, the 
public prosecutor, and all the rest of them. He thinks 
a crime has been committed, and he would willingly 
walk two hundred leagues, for the pleasure of seeing 
his name in the Gazette des Tribunaux .” 

The heir took hope again. His cause was gained be- 
fore the courts and at La Germoniere. The fortune, 
which had almost escaped him, was his, thanks to a 
providential chance. And he could now, with all assur- 
ance, take advantage of the permission given him by 
Germaine. 

He thought for a moment of making his call upon the 
president all the same, but he very soon reflected that 
this call had no longer any object; and that it would be 
perhaps a mistake. It would be better to let Prudhomme 
take the initiative, and proclaim of his own free will that 
M. Vignemal had survived his wife. 

There was no possible doubt, since the body and the 
fragments of the boat had been found in the exact place, 
where a person, worthy of belief, ^had seen M. Vig- 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR f 


167 


nemal alive. The distance between the Fougeray ferry 
and the Pont-aux-Mouettes was such, that Mme. Vig- 
nemal must have died at least twenty minutes before her 
husband, even admitting that she was still alive when 
Roch Ferrer discovered her upon the bank. 

“ My dear Alfred,” said du Pommeval after a pause, 
“ it is very pleasant to me to learn through you that I 
can without uneasiness or conscientious scruples declare 
to Madame Daudjerne that I shall bring to Mademoiselle 
Germaine a fortune worthy of her. You can attest it if 
needs be.” 

u Have you spoken to them of your doubts ?” 

“No. I intended to tell them to-day that the ques- 
tion of inheritance was not yet settled, and I should have 
offered to withdraw, if — ” 

“ Tell them nothing at all, my dear du Pommeval. 
You are now sure of your fortune. What is the use of 
stirring up what is all over with ? My uncle is as fussy 
as the devil, and he would ask you questions without 
end. If you take my advice, we will go together to La 
Germoni&re. I don’t fear to appear there, now you have 
promised to get me out of my scrape.” 

“ I have the four thousand francs at home,” said 
his future brother-in-law. “ Shall we go there for 
them ? ” 

“ Delighted to do so. Thanks, old man, you will re- 
store my credit, when I had great need of it. To-mor- 
row, that miserable debt will be paid. You have ren- 
dered me a great service, and I shan’t be ungrateful. 
Well, it is settled that we go to my mother’s.” 

“ My coupe should be harnessed. We shall be there 
in half an hour. When we return, we will pass by the 
Pont-aux-Mouettes.” 

“ Ah ! that’s a good idea. I will get some informa- 


168 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


tion at the station as to the man with the gold eyeglasses, 
and if he is at home, I will introduce you to him.” 

This was exactly Arthur’s plan, and he beamed with 
joy. He had now an ally at La Germoniere, and he did 
not know yet that he had an enemy there. 

He took the arm of Germaine’s brother, and they de- 
parted together before the eyes of the whist players, 
who said to themselves: 

“So! The marriage is settled. The Vigncmals’ 
money will be spent in Paris.” 


CHAPTER V. 


11 My dear du Pommeval, let me introduce to you M. 
Pontac, officer of the hussars, our neighbor for the last 
few days, and for some days to come I hope. M. Pontac, 
M. Arthur du Pommeval, a friend of the family, whom 
you will often meet at La Germoniere. I do not intro- 
duce my nephew, Alfred Daudierne. You will not 
have the opportunity of seeing that scapegrace here very 
often,” added Uncle Armand, after having correctly ful- 
filled the formality imposed upon hosts who receive two 
gentlemen, strangers to each other. 

M. Vignemal’s heir had alighted from his coupe a 
quarter of an hour before the arrival of Madame Vigne- 
mal’s cousin, who had come on foot. 

Chance plays a great part in the affairs of this world. 
It affords opportunities, it causes catastrophes and it has- 
tens events. 

The two rivals met in the salon of La Germoniere, 
where all the Daudierne family were assembled, and the 
meeting was certainly not premeditated. 

Du Pommeval, freed from a terrible anxiety, had not 
lost a moment in hastening to La Germoniere with young 
Alfred, who had furnished him with such valuable in- 
formation. 

Pontac, more worried than ever, had decided, after 
long hesitation, to follow the advice given him by Ger- 
maine, advice which resembled an order. He returned 
the call M. Armand Daudierne had made at Bretteville, 
and from that day commenced relations from which he 
only expected trouble, for he did not flatter himself that 


170 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


they would end in a marriage between himself, a poor 
sub-lieutenant, and a young girl as well endowed by 
her relatives as by nature. 

He had, however, one advantage over his millionaire 
rival. He had known who du Pommeval was for a long 
time, and he knew that du Pommeval had recently be- 
come an official candidate for Mademoiselle Daudierne’s 
hand, accepted by the mother and allowed by the daugh- 
ter as a suitor, while du Pommeval had no suspicion that 
the handsome blonde soldier who suddenly appeared at 
La Germoniere was violently in love with Germaine, 
and that Germaine had done nothing as yet to discour- 
age him. 

Du Pommeval did not even remember ever having 
seen him before, and the name of Pontac called up no 
memory. Yet they must have often met in the streets 
of Arcy, during vacation time, when Roger was pur- 
suing his studies at the college of Saint Louis and Ar- 
thur was learning how to tie his cravat in a boarding- 
school of the Faubourg Saint Honors. But then they 
were both children, and ten years in Africa make a 
great change in a man. Arthur, besides, had never 
noticed the poorly-dressed boy, who was living on the 
bounty of a cousin who was only very indirectly related 
by marriage to the du Pommevals. 

Arthur had not remarked him in the crowd at the 
Vignemals’ funeral." Roger was present at the cere- 
mony, but he had spoken to no one, and no one had paid 
any attention to him. At least he thought so, and he 
had grounds for thinking so, for he had not recognized 
a single one of his relations among the peasants pres- 
ent. 

But du Pommeval had many other advantages over 
Pontac; knowledge of the world and how to dress, and 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


171 


the talent of saying in well-chosen language the most 
commonplace things. He was up in the fashionable jar- 
gon of the day, and possessed that ease of manner which 
is acquired only by frequenting the society of ladies. 
Roger, looking at him, felt awkward; he was ashamed 
of being dressed like an officer on leave, but he was 
wrong, for the natural elegance of his appearance made 
up for the simplicity of his toilet, and reserve is not 
awkwardness. 

But du Pommeval on this particular day had chanced 
to arrive first at La Germoniere. He was already estab- 
lished before the fire with Madame Daudierne and her 
daughters when Pontac entered the salon for the first 
time. Du Pommeval could enjoy the quite natural em- 
barrassment which the rather stiff attitude of the new 
comer betrayed. He had already cast anchor in port, 
while the other was still outside the harbor. 

Moreover, du Pommeval was thoroughly at home. He 
had made a study of Madame Daudierne and Uncle Ar- 
mand for a long time past, and knew how to please 
them. With the young ladies, too, there was no lack of 
subjects of conversation. He was not reduced to sigh- 
ing, like an inexperienced lover; he could convey a com- 
pliment in recalling some previous event, a burning de- 
claration in a discreet allusion to words exchanged at a 
ball or party. 

Roger, on the contrary, felt himself almost entirely a 
stranger, and prudence condemned him to be silent for 
fear of saying the wrong thing. Of what could he 
speak, even to Germaine? Their love had no past, since 
it dated only from their conversation on the way back 
from Lemon Rock, an interview which the young girl 
had related to no one. 

Madame Daudierne came to the rescue of the lieuten- 


172 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


ant, without suspecting the importance of the service 
which she rendered him. 

“ I am happy to be able at last to thank you, mon- 
sieur,” she said, in the most gracious manner. “ My 
brother-in-law is indebted to you for the welcome the 
Duke de Bretteville accorded to him, and I am very 
grateful to you for not having forgotten the way to La 
Germoni£re. I acknowledge that we rely upon you to 
help us to pass pleasantly a few more weeks in the 
country. We shall not leave till after Christmas, and 
during the month of December we shall be almost alone 
here. The young men of Arcy are about to take flight 
to Paris, and M. du Pommeval, who is very kind not to 
abandon us, is in mourning. W e shall not give enter- 
tainments, but we shall have great pleasure in receiving 
our friends, and you are one of them.” 

Roger made a suitable reply to these words of wel- 
come, and this time he did not excuse himself by saying 
that he would soon be recalled to his regiment. He read 
in Germaine’s eyes that she wished him to accept unre- 
servedly. 

The name of Bretteville had its effect. 

M. du Pommeval had never been invited to the 
chateau, and he knew the duke only by sight, although 
he was in the habit of speaking of him in the most fa- 
miliar tone. He regarded with more consideration the 
officer who was the friend of a great noble, and he de- 
termined to take advantage of the occasion to obtain an 
entry into aristocratic society. 

Young Alfred was no less desirous than his friend to 
establish friendly relations with the greatest man of the 
whole province, and he at once saw the necessity of con- 
ciliating Roger Pontac, whom he had at first thought a 
bore. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


173 


“You are in the cavalry, Monsieur,” he said point- 
blank, “ and you must be fond of horses ; I adore them. 
I served my time in the 19th dragoons and I flatter my- 
self that I can ride pretty well. It was not in the regi- 
ment, however, that I learned, thank Heaven, or I should 
know nothing about it. The method of military in- 
structors is detestable.” 

“ I don’t quite agree with you, Monsieur,” said Roger 
modestly. 

“ Oh! Of course you are obliged to say so. But you 
must acknowledge that the poorest sportsman in Eng- 
land knows more than all the F rench cavalry. But that 
is not to the point. I should be delighted to hunt with 
you, and show you the action of a thoroughbred I bought 
at Tattersall’s this year, Ralph, by Rob Roy and Gypsy.” 

“ You do well to boast of your Ralph,” cried Uncle 
Armand. “ He ran away with Germaine the other day, 
and nearly broke her neck.” 

“Well, why did she mount him without my permis- 
sion ?” 

w I did not want your permission, and I shan’t ask it 
in the future, if I ever have a fancy to use Ralph again,” 
responded Germaine. 

“ My two saddle horses are at your disposal, Madem- 
oiselle,” said du Pommeval quickly. 

“ Thanks. I was too frightened the other day. All’s 
well that ends well, and my forced ride ended very well, 
but I shall beware of thoroughbreds. I will do like 
Laurence, and content myself with one of our carriage- 
horses. There is no danger that they will run away. 
They are like rocking-horses.” 

Alfred commenced to laugh, and to hum a refrain 
which was popular in the Parisian cafes chanlants. 

Pontac was upon burning coals, since the conversation 


174 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


had turned upon Ralph, and could hardly control his 
countenance. But Germaine’s intervention put him at 
his ease, and her words went to his heart. 

“ We have had much excitement during the last few 
days,” said Madame Daudierne to him, after he had 
taken his place before the fire, in front of her and beside 
her brother-in-law. “ My daughter lost her way through 
the fault of that wretched horse, who almost threw her 
down a precipice, and we were very uneasy for more 
than an hour.” 

“ M. Pontac will believe you without difficulty when 
he knows that Laurence and I sought Germaine every- 
where, and that it was night when we returned without 
having found her,” said Uncle Armand. 

“ And the evening before,” continued Madame Daud- 
ierne, “ M. du Pommeval’s uncle and aunt were drowned 
while crossing the river at the foot of our garden. You 
have certainly heard of that frightful accident ? ” 

“ Yes, Madame, the next day but one, from the Duke’s 
servants.” 

“ It is not certain that it was an accident,” said M. 
Daudierne. “ There is a scamp who played an inexplica- 
ble part in that drama. I mean the gypsy, whom I 
pointed out to the Duke, advising him to have him 
watched by his gamekeepers. But I fear my advice will 
not be followed. The Duke did not appear to me to be 
disposed to take the necessary steps to put an end to the 
depredations of that marauder.” 

“ He is always opposed to severity, and just now, more 
than ever, is he inclined to be indulgent. He is entirely 
overwhelmed by his sorrow.” 

“ That does not prevent him from being the most 
courteous gentleman I have ever seen. He received me 
as if I were of his own rank, and confused me with the 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


175 


offers he made to me, his forest, his gamekeepers, his 
horses, his game, so that I scarcely liked to accept. This 
reception was due in a great measure to you, my dear 
lieutenant. Upon my word, I believe I shall have to 
abandon the prejudices which I have against the old no- 
bility.” 

“ Uncle,” interrupted Alfred, “ when you go to hunt 
at Bretteville, will you take me with you ?”, 

“ You! Never, my boy; you are much too quick with 
your gun, and I have no desire to receive in my body 
the bullets intended for a deer. What I say to you is in 
your own interest. Y ou might be accused, perhaps, of 
killing me on purpose, in order to inherit my money.” 

“ Armand ! My friend!” murmured Madame Daud- 
ierne. 

“Oh! Alfred knows I am not speaking seriously. 
But the truth is, he is not invited and I could not take 
him.” 

“ The Duke would be happy, I have no doubt, to be 
agreeable to all the members of your family. Your 
nephew will be welcome at the chateau, and if the ladies 
would like to be present at a deer-hunt — ” 

“Oh! that would be charming,” cried Germaine. 
“ What do you say, Laurence ? ” 

“ As you please,” said the elder sister, with a quick 
glance at Madame Vignemal’s heir. 

“ And M. du Pommeval can go,” said Germaine. 
“ His mourning will not prevent his hunting.”* 

“ I have not the honor of the Duke de Bretteville’s 
acquaintance,” said Arthur, delighted at this opening. 

Roger Pontac did not care much about inviting his 
rival, but he thought he could read in Germaine’s eyes a 
prayer, which he interpreted after his own fashion. 

“ She fears that Madame Daudierne will refuse, if her 


176 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


chosen son-in-law is left out,” he thought. He hastened, 
therefore, to answer that the Duke would invite his 
neighbors of La Germoniere and their friends, and he 
had the satisfaction of receiving the warm thanks of a 
man whom he had no reason for liking. 

“ That is capital,” cried Uncle Armand. “ M. Pontac 
will let us know the day most convenient to the Duke, 
and we will all be there. Upon my word, good news never 
comes single. I have just returned from Arcy, and I 
bring information which interests you very much, my 
dear Arthur.” 

“ You did not tell me that you were going to the 
city,” said Madame Daudierne. u If you had, I — ” 

“You would have charged me with a multitude of 
commissions, and that is just what I wanted to avoid, my 
dear Reine. I went to have a talk with M. Lestrigon, 
president of the tribunal.” 

“Did you see him?” asked du Pommeval eagerly. 

“ I was with him an hour, and I don’t see why I should 
conceal from you that we talked only of you.” 

At the first words on this unexpected subject, Arthur, 
startled by the name which M. Daudierne pronounced, 
listened attentively, and when he heard that he had 
been the subject of conversation between the president 
of the tribunal and Germaine’s uncle, he was visibly 
troubled. 

He was about to know his fate, for M. Lestrigon must 
have an opinion formed as to the probable issue of the 
case, and the heir feared to learn that his cause was lost 
in advance in the mind of the intelligent magistrate. 

“Don’t worry yourself,” continued Uncle Armand 
smiling. “ I told you just now that this was the day for 
good news, and I meant it. You are all right. But you 
have no idea of the danger you have been in.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


177 


“Danger?” repeated Madame Daudierne in great 
surprise. 

“ Yes, the danger of being deprived of the Vignemals’ 
fortune.” 

“ It seems to me, my dear Armand, that this is scarcely 
the time to discuss a subject which interests only M. du 
Pommeval, — and us.” 

“Why not, my dear Reine? M. Pontac is a stranger 
in the country, and he cares little about knowing what 
will become of the money of our neighbors of Fouge- 
ray. But he is one of ourselves now, and he will be 
glad to know that our friend du Pommeval will receive 
this fortune coveted by distant relatives, who, I believe 
don’t amount to much, greedy peasants and vagrants. 
Isn’t it so, lieutenant, you will share our joy? ” 

Roger Pontac made a sign of assent, and it was very 
meritorious of him to pass over the uncomplimentary re- 
mark which M. Daudierne had unintentionally addressed 
to him. He was himself one of those relatives so harshly 
characterized by a man who did not know them, and 
although he did not covet his cousin’s property, he really 
could not rejoice at that property passing into the hands 
of his rival. He said to himself that if chance had not 
enriched M. du Pommeval, Madame Daudierne would 
not marry her daughter to a man involved in debt, and 
his self-denial did not go so far as to be glad at an event 
which ruined his hopes. 

“ Besides,” continued Uncle Armand, “ the story is odd 
and would bore no one. Know then, ladies and gen- 
tlemen, that we were entirely deceived as to the applica- 
tion of the famous article 722: many others besides our- 
selves were deceived also. But then, what could we ex- 
pect?” looking at his nephew with a quizzical air. 

12 


178 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


“Alfred was away. If he had been with us, he would 
have explained it at once.” 

“I!” said Alfred, “No, indeed. I am still only pre- 
paring for my first examination and the question of in- 
heritance is not on the paper.” 

“ Then, your knowledge would not have helped us, 
and, besides, # I do not regret the error into which we all 
fell. If M. du Pommeval had known his true position, 
he would have passed some sleepless nights.” 

“ I did know it,” said Arthur with an emotion which 
was not feigned, although he was already reassured. 

“ And you concealed it from us ? ” 

“ No; I came to-day expressly to tell you that the law 
was against me, and that I was no richer than I was 
eight days ago. It would have been hard for me to 
make that avowal here; but for reasons which you can 
understand, I could not leave you in uncertainty.” 

“ My dear du Pommeval, that is a feeling which does 
you honor; and I am certain that my sister-in-law and 
my nieces appreciate it.” 

Madame Daudierne approved by a gesture, Germaine 
by a smile; but Laurence, who was embroidering, did 
not raise her eyes. She listened however with much at- 
tention, and she did not lose a word of the dialogue. 

Roger also listened, and for fear of betraying his im- 
pressions, he remained perfectly immovable, erect and 
stiff as a soldier on guard, and his eyes never left Ger- 
maine. 

“Fortunately,” said Uncle Armand, “you will not 
have to give that proof of loyalty, which I almost ex- 
pected, for I will not conceal from you that I had my 
doubts. I did not trust my knowledge nor that of Dr. 
Subligny, so I concluded to consult a competent man, 
and I could not do better than address myself to M. Les- 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


179 


trigon" who stands very high as a lawyer. The first 
thing that he told me was that you would not inherit of 
right, and that, to inherit, it would be necessary for you 
to establish by positive proofs that your uncle had lived 
longer than his wife. I, for my part, was convinced of 
the contrary, for I remember the testimony of that 
poacher who saw Madame Vignemal some time after 
the accident. It is very probable that she was still 
.breathing, and perhaps she would have recovered con- 
sciousness, if that man named Roch had not abandoned 
her. Now, from this it would result that her will would 
be null and void. And I was very much inclined to be- 
lieve that this was the case.” 

“ 1 thought so too,” said du Pommeval. 

Madame Daudierne looked as if she did not thoroughly 
understand her brother-in-law’s explanations, but it was 
plain to be seen that she was uneasy, and that she was 
not indifferent as to her future son-in-law losing the two 
millions. 

Alfred laughed in his sleeve. He thought he would 
have the last word, and would electrify his family by 
relating the story of his encounter on the railway. 

Germaine and Laurence evidently took the deepest in- 
terest in their uncle’s recital. They did not interrupt 
him by questions or comments, but they impatiently 
awaited the end of the story. Germaine fidgetted about 
in her chair and Laurence made little nervous move- 
ments, which sadly destroyed the symmetry of the de- 
sign she was embroidering. 

Pontac understood very well that he was to receive no 
part of the inheritance, and he was not sorry to know to 
what unforeseen circumstance this was due. 

“Well, my dear,” continued M. Daudierne, “there 
was no occasion for alarm. The president, who is very 


180 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


clever, had divined, I think, why I desired information^ 
He amused himself by keeping me on the tenter-hooks 
full quarter of an hour, and after having gone into a 
long dissertation on the judicial complications which 
might arise in a case of this kind, he asked me with a 
smile if I had met in the entry an old gentleman. I an- 
swered yes, and that the old man in question was totally 
unknown to me. Then he told me that he was a retired 
tradesman, who had made a fortune, and as this revela- 
tion seemed to interest me but slightly, he added that the- 
man, who lived in Paris, had built a sort of pavilion not 

a hundred feet from the Pont-aux-Mouettes.” 

♦ 

“ I will bet you that the person you speak of has a. 
profile like Punchinello, and wears gold-rimmed eye- 
glasses!” cried Alfred. 

“ Exactly. How the devil did you know that?” 

“ I am acquainted with your retired grocer. I passed 
five hours in his delightful company this morning, and I 
could repeat to you all M. Lestrigon must have told you. 
His name is the only thing I do not know, but I know 1 ' 
the story by heart — Father Vignemal clinging to tho 
boat, which was caught against one of the piles of the 
bridge — Father Vignemal calling for help, and the he- 
roic grocer hurrying on his way to catch his train. And 
Arthur knows all about it. I have just narrated it to 
him at the club in Arcy.” 

“ Then, my dear M. Pommeval, I am telling you 
nothing new,” said Uncle Armand, a little vexed at 
being anticipated by his nephew. 

“ You fill me with joy, monsieur,” responded the heir 
quickly. “ Alfred could not tell me what had become 
of this providential traveler. I hoped to find him, but I 
was not sure of succeeding; and then you tell me that 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


181 


he went of his own accord to the president of the tri- 
bunal. I could desire nothing better.” 

“ No, for this former tradesman is a very honorable 
man, and his testimony will be decisive. You owe him 
no gratitude, for he has served you unwittingly, but it 
must be acknowledged that he has been very energetic 
in the matter, for he came from Paris expressly. It ap- 
pears even that when he reached the Rue Mauconseil, 
where he lives, he wrote to the jDresident to inform him 
of what he had witnessed.” 

“ I can now comprehend why M. Lestrigon hinted to 
Dr. Subligny that I must not despair of gaining my 
case.” 

“ I must tell you that he has known this M. Grand- 
minard for a long time, and has a great respect for him.” 

“That old idiot is called Grandminard!” cried Alfred. 
u That is a very good name for him.” 

“ I forbid you to make fun of him. He is a veritable 
providence for our friend. The president has assured 
me that nothing can prevail against the clear declaration 
of a witness worthy of belief, of a witness who has seen 
and heard M. Vignemal, alive and calling out, thirty 
minutes after the accident at the ferry. The president 
■even thinks that the rights of our friend will not be 
contested, and that he can enter into possession without 
any difficulty.” 

“I hope he may be right,” murmured du Pommeval. 
“ It would be very painful to have a law suit with those 
poor people.” 

“ They will not risk it. Remember that they must 
prove that Madame Vignemal lived three-quarters of 
an hour under the water, or a little more, as her body 
remained only a few minutes on the bank. And the 
only witness whom they could produce would be that 


182 WAS IT A MURDER? 

Roch Ferrer, whom no one would believe. What could 
he say , besides ? That he saw the woman — we know 
that. It is possible that things took place otherwise than 
he related. But he will not have the audacity to declare 
in court that his first story was a lie.” 

“ I have always thought that he did not tell you the 
truth,” said Laurence, without raising her eyes. 

“ You are very severe upon one of your admirers,” 
said Germaine, gaily, “ for that man is in love with you. 
The other evening, in the kitchen, he never took his eyes 
off you. You absolutely petrified him.” 

“ Oh! the rascal is bold,” said Uncle Armand, “but if 
one of you, young ladies, wishes to draw his portrait, 
you must make haste, for one of these days he will be 
locked up. The public prosecutor suspects him of graver 
crimes than poaching ; an inquiry has been set on foot as 
to the part he played in the drama which cost the Vigne- 
mal couple their lives, and if this inquiry goes against 
him he will be arrested.” 

“ I shall be so sorry,” exclaimed Germaine. “ A pro- 
t£g£ of the doctor’s can not be a criminal.” 

“ I also shall be sorry,” said M. Daudierne, “ but not 
for the same reason. I am, on the contrary, very much 
inclined to think that the excellent doctor is mistaken in 
regard to this fellow. But if Roch is arrested on ac- 
count of the accident at the ferry a criminal trial would 
complicate the affairs of our friend, du Pommeval; at 
least that is President Lestrigon’s opinion.” 

“ Let us talk of something else,” said Madame Daud- 
ierne. “ What pleasure can you find, my dear Armand, 
in recalling to me an event which I cannot think of 
without pain ? I am sure these gentlemen would prefer 
a less gloomy subject of conversation.” 

“ Oh! I know the young ladies would rather waltz, 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


183 


but it is too early and partners are wanting; besides, du 
Pommeval is in deep mourning.” 

“ W e could have a little music,” suggested Germaine. 

“Do you like music, Monsieur Pontac?” asked Uncle 
Arm and. 

“ Very much, monsieur; only I do not know a note.” 

“You must know some Arab airs. If you will sing 
them, my nieces, who play very well, will accompany 
you. And that will give me a relief from the symphon- 
ies, sonatas and other classical music, which annoys me 
to death. What do you say, Laurence?” 

Uncle Armand’s proposition was agreeable to every- 
body except to Roger and Laurence. 

Madame Daudierne was very glad to put an end to a 
conversation which had dwelt too long upon the death 
of the Vignemals and the inheritance of their property. 
Alfred intended to take advantage of the music to go 
and lock up in his secretary the four thousand francs he 
had borrowed. Dif Pommeval had hoped to pay his 
court to the younger sister while the older accompanied 
the oriental songs. AncV Germaine was delighted to 
listen to that rich deep voice which she had heard for the 
first time at the foot of L^mon Rock. 

But Roger did not care about amusing the company, 
and Laurence had other plans for the evening. 

“ I do not know how to sing,” said the lieutenant, “ and 
African airs would scarcely please real musicians. They 
are too wild, and the words would grate upon F rench ears.” 

“ And I beg to be excused,” said Laurence. “ I can 
only accompany well what I understand, and I do not 
know a word of Arabic.” 

“ That is an answer borrowed from Moliere’s Femmes 
Savantes ,” cried Uncle Armand. “‘Excuse me, mon- 
sieur, I do not know Greek.’ ” 


184 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ I will try,” said Germaine, rising. “ If M. Pontac will 
have the kindness to commence, I shall soon catch the air.” 

“ Mademoiselle,” implored Roger, “ I assure you that 
my songs will bore you. They are a sort of monoton- 
ous chant, which we tolerate in the Moorish caf£s, be- 
cause they make us sleepy almost like the tobacco one 
smokes in a narghileh. Here, they would sound per- 
fectly ridiculous.” 

“ I don’t think so, I like odd melodies.” 

“ By virtue of the law of contrasts, I suppose,” said 
Monsieur Daudierne. 

“ Now, uncle, why shouldn’t I appreciate the charm of 
Oriental romance? I have often heard Fedicien David’s 
Desert, and I was fascinated with it. You know you 
detest music.” 

“ I don’t detest it, but I fear it. If I was a husband or 
a father, I would forbid my wife and daughters to have 
anything to do with the piano and pianists. However, 
I shall be none the less charmed to hear an Arab air 
sung by an officer in the African army, and accompanied 
by a Parisian. That is an opportunity which does not 
present itself every day at Arcy-sur-Beuvron.” 

“ Monsieur Pontac,” said Germaine gaily, “ since my 
uncle himself begs you to sing, you can no longer re- 
fuse. Come, you shall see how quickly I can catch the 
accompaniment.” 

Roger was obliged to yield, although he hated to make 
a spectacle of himself before M. du Pommeval. 

There was indeed some condensation for the annoy- 
ance, as he would be able to withdraw with Germaine 
from the rest of the company. But it would not be a 
tete-a-tete. All eyes would be fixed upon them, and he 
was determined more than ever not to betray by his at- 
titude toward her the sentiment he felt. 


OR , WnO IS THE HEIR? 


185 


Germaine had already taken her place at the piano. It 
was necessary to follow her, and Roger soon perceived 
that he would not be much watched, while the im- 
promptu concert lasted. 

Uncle Armand had seated himself upon a sofa at the 
other end of the salon. He did not care to remain in the 
immediate vicinity of the noisy instrument he disliked. 

Alfred was already manoeuvring to slip quietly out of 
the room. He was anxious to go up to his room and 
deposit his money there, and then descend to the stables 
to inspect Ralph’s knees, for he was afraid Germaine had 
injured them. 

Laurence was absorbed in her embroidery, and du 
Pommeval, who did not fear the lieutenant of hussars, 
had the good taste to approach her, under pretext of 
complimenting her on her needle work. He knew that 
he had treated her badly and must make his peace. 

Madame Daudierne was established beside her broth- 
er-in-law. She also had no fear of Pontac, and she felt 
that an explanation between her future son-in-law and 
her elder daughter was almost indispensable, and that 
the opportunity was an excellent one. 

She did not wish to disturb them, and she had besides 
some questions to ask Uncle Armand. 

So, quite naturally, they were all grouped in twos, and 
far enough apart from each other to talk freely, if they 
did not speak too loud. 

“ This was a good idea of my uncle’s,” said Germaine, 
running her fingers over the piano. “ If you sang a 
romance or a bit from an opera, I should be obliged to 
have a sheet of music before me, and some one would 
have to be here to turn over the leaves, as you do not 
know the notes. But as the Arab song is not written we 
can be alone.” 


186 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


44 And I shall be able to tell you ” 

44 Whatever you like, between the verses. But you 
must give me the key. Sing the first bar.” 

44 Ta thir ennouba ,” hummed Roger in a slow and 
melancholy rhythm. 

He had a good voice and he sang with feeling. 

44 I have it,” said Germaine, striking the chords. 44 It 
is charming. It resembles Italian. And I always though^ 
Arabic was a harsh language. Go on!” 

“ Sir ou sellern ala el mahbouba .” 

44 Alahbouba is a little hard on account of the aspirate. 
What does it mean? ” 

44 Well-beloved.” 

44 Oh! Translate to me what goes before.” 

44 Melodious bird , bear a greethig to my voell-beloved . 
The rest is not worth the trouble of explaining to you. 
It is only a paraphrase of the commencement, and the 
same motive constantly occurs.” 

“Good! Now I know enough to follow you. I am 
going to give you an energetic accompaniment. See that 
there are a great many verses, for I have many things to 
say to you. Now, begin.” 

Roger attacked the air in a well chosen pitch; low 
enough to allow him to catch Germaine’s words, and 
high enough to prevent these words from reaching ears 
they were not intended for. The difficulty was to ans- 
wer. It is impossible to talk and sing at the same time. 
But this attempt at an African concert necessitated fre- 
quent interruptions, which allowed the performers to in- 
terchange a few words. 

“Well, the die is cast,” whispered Germaine, while 
Roger was singing in Arabic verses the message borne ta 
the loved one by the melodious bird. 44 M. du Pomme- 
val is to be the heir. My sister will have a millionaire 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


187 


husband. Yes, my sister. Don’t you see that I have 
arranged a tete-^-tete for them? Laurence will know 
how to bring him back to her. I think that the conver- 
sation is already taking a happy turn, for they are doing 
like us, they are speaking in a confidential tone; my 
brother has slipped away, and my mother and uncle are 
talking business and will not disturb them. I know, be- 
sides, that mamma is anxious to marry my sister before 
me. Everything will be arranged. M. du Pommeval 
will perceive that he has mistaken a passing fancy for a 
serious passion, and will return to the one whom he 
really loves and who suits him. This wretched inherit- 
ance turned his brain. He imagines that I would help 
him to spend his fortune better than Laurence. He takes 
me for a thorough society girl, me, who care only for 
home pleasures. I am right, am I not, to despise money ? 
I saw just now that we had the same idea of life. You 
did not seem troubled when my uncle announced that 
all your cousin’s fortune would pass into the hands of an- 
other.” 

“ You knew that Madame Vignemal was a relative of 
mine ? ” 

This was said so quickly and so low that the words 
were mingled with the ritornello of the first couplet, 
which Roger at the same moment finished. 

“ Go on with your song,” murmured Germaine, touch- 
ing the keys of the piano with nervous fingers. “ I 
haven’t finished. I want to give you a little ad- 
vice. Dr. Subligny spoke to us of you, the eve- 
ning the accident happened. He even mentioned your 
name. My mother, my uncle and my sister have all 
forgotten what he told us of your childhood and your 
sudden disappearance. I remember it, but I have said 
nothing. What would be the use of proclaiming you as 


188 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


a competitor against M. du Pommeval, who inherits the 
fortune to your detriment? The doctor thinks as I do 
that it would be entirely useless, for, when he introduced 
you to my mother, he was very careful not to speak of 
your relationship to Madame Vignemal. Imitate his 
prudence, if you wish to please me.” 

Roger would willingly have cut short the second 
couplet to protest that he would obey, but Germaine con- 
tinued quickly: 

“ Not a word, I implore you. My uncle is looking at 
us.” 

Uncle Armand was in fact looking at them, but unin- 
tentionally, for he wasn’t thinking of them. 

“ Du Pommeval seems to have something particular 
to say to your elder daughter,” he said to his sister-in- 
law. “ He has devoted himself to her this evening.” 

“ I am very glad of it,” responded Madame Daudierne. 
“ Laurence has once had reason to think that M. du 
Pommeval was paying his court to her. And perhaps 
she did not remain insensible to his advances, which at 
one time were very marked. Of course, she isn’t jealous 
of Germaine’s happiness, but then she is a woman, and 
M. du Pommeval has doubtless thought that he owed 
her an explanation.” 

“ In such cases explanations do no good, my dear 
Reine. Wounded hearts are not cured with excuses. 
But I hope that Laurence’s hasn’t reached that state.” 

Madame Daudierne and her brother-in-law were both 
mistaken, and they would have been convinced of their 
error, if they could have heard the conversation which 
the young people were carrying on in a low voice. 

“ So you dare to deny that your new fortune has 
changed your sentiments,” Laurence was saying, as she 
counted the stitches of her embroidery. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR f 


18i> 

u I swear to you that I regret not having manifested 
them more clearly, since you have made a mistake as to 
my real intentions,” replied du Pommeval. 

“ Your repentance, were it sincere, could not repair 
the evil you have done. And I know that you have 
played an unworthy comedy. Before the accident which 
enriched you, you could not hope that my sister’s hand 
would be given you, and so you would have been con- 
tented to marry me, for want of a better. I was only a 
make-shift. I forgive you for the odious calculation, but 
I pray Heaven that Germaine will refuse to be your 
wife, for I love her, and you would deceive her as you 
have deceived me. She will refuse, I am sure, when she 
knows your true worth. Your treason will bring you 
no happiness, I assure you.” 

The heir, troubled by this declaration of war, was 
about to again attempt to justify himself, but the Arab 
song was finished, and the salon was suddenly silent. 
Germaine closed the piano; her mother and uncle rose 
to thank the lieutenant, who had given them a specimen 
of primitive poetry and barbaric music. Laurence her- 
self abandoned her embroidery, and du Pommeval was 
forced to discontinue the conversation. 

“ That is charming,” said M. Daudierne emphatically, 
although he had scarcely listened to the singing. “Young 
ladies, you will have to renounce Beethoven and Mozart, 
who put me to sleep. I prefer airs, which have never 
been written down. The redskins in America have some 
very pretty ones.” 

“ The gipsies, too,” replied Germaine, laughing. 
“ Would you like us to send for Roch Ferrer? ” 

“ I hope that rascal will never set his foot again inside 
La Germoniere. He will be put in jail one of these 
days, and serve him right tooj Did I tell you that the 


190 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


public prosecutor suspects him of having drowned our 
neighbors, whom he pretends he tried to save ? ” 

“ Yes, but I will never believe that.” 

“ Because I haven’t told you all. It seems that he was 
paid by a cousin of Madame Vignemal’s who had 
quitted the country and who returned for that express 
purpose. They are seeking for this cousin, and when 
they find him, an inquiry will be instituted, which will 
bring the two accomplices before the court of assizes.” 

Roger Pontac started. The cousin whom they sus- 
pected was evidently himself. No other relative of 
Madame Vignemal’s had left the country and suddenly 
returned to it. 

The accusation was absurd and unworthy of notice. 
Nevertheless, forgetting Mademoiselle Daudierne’s ad- 
vice, he came near betraying the incognito, which she had 
begged him to preserve for the time being. Germaine 
intervened just in time. 

“ But this is a romance, this relation who appears at a 
given moment to drown people,” she cried. “ I did not 
know the magistrates had so much imagination. What 
theatrical situations they invent ! ” 

“ President Lestrigon is incapable of lying, and it was 
from him I had the information,” said Uncle Armand. 
“ Madame Vignemal charitably brought up a little rascal 
who repaid her very badly for her kindness. He ran 
away from school, a dozen years ago, and has never been 
heard of since.” 

“ It seems to me,” said Madame Daudierne, “ that the 
doctor related to us that story.” 

“Yes, he did. I even think that he told us the name 
of the individual, but I have forgotten it, and I didn’t 
think to ask the president. One thing is certain, how- 
ever, and that is that the man was seen, the evening or 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


191 


the evening before the disaster, hanging about Madame 
Vignemal’s grounds. The gardener recognized him. 
Unfortunately, it did not occur to him to follow him.” 

“ And since that encounter, the fantastic cousin hasn’t 
shown himself,” said Germaine ironically. “ He has a 
talisman perhaps, which renders him invisible.” 

“ You may laugh, my dear, but you are wrong. It is 
known beyond a doubt that he is hiding somewhere 
about F ougeray, and they are searching for him quietly, 
in order not to arouse the suspicions of his accomplice.” 

41 His accomplice? That is Roch Ferrer, I suppose.” 

“ By Jove! Those two scoundrels must have under- 
stood each other at the first word.” 

“ They know one another, then ? ” 

“ I don’t know, but they may have come together on 
the road or in the woods. The gipsy has no fixed dom- 
icile. He passes his nights out of doors. He never 
sleeps twice in succession in the same place.” 

“Oh! He does not go very far away from La Ger- 
moniere, and I would be willing to wager that if Lau- 
rence wanted to draw his portrait, he could be found 
without any difficulty.” 

“ Possibly, but I don’t want to,” said Laurence drily. 

“ And then,” continued Germaine, “ why don’t they 
question that poor fellow whom they suspect ? He could 
clear himself, I have no doubt.” 

“ They don’t wish to arrest him till the other one is 
caught. If they should imprison Roch, the cousin they 
are seeking would escape, and they could not be con- 
fronted with each other.” 

Roger Pontac listened with a frown to Uncle Ar- 
mand’s speech, and could scarcely contain himself from 
crying out, “ That cousin is I, and what you say hasn’t 
common sense!” 


192 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


A glance from Germaine again prevented an out- 
break, and the young girl, who pleaded Roch Ferrer’s 
innocence, found an unexpected auxiliary. 

Arthur du Pommeval was anything but desirous of 
having anybody arrested on account of the circumstance 
which made him rich. He knew that a criminal trial 
would delay his entering into possession, and that in the 
course of this trial incidents would arise which would 
cast a doubt upon the value of M. Grandminard’s testi- 
mony. 

“ It seems to me,” he said, “ that it would be very 
wrong to imprison two men upon the vaguest suspicion. 
I do not know this mysterious cousin of Madame Vigne- 
mal’s, But I can scarcely believe what is said of him. If 
he had had evil designs against his relative he would 
have executed them all alone, and above all he would 
never have taken into his confidence that poacher, who,, 
Dr. Subligny declares, is incapable of committing a 
crime.” 

“ The doctor is interested in him, and my opinion is 
that he is wrong,” growled M. Daudierne. “ But we 
have talked enough about this wretched matter. M. 
Pontac has sung us an Algerian air. I will not abuse 
his kindness by asking him to sing again, but I hope 
that he will give us some details of African hunts. Did 
you ever kill any lions, lieutenant?” 

“ Never, monsieur,” answered Pontac. “ I will ac- 
knowledge to you that I don’t care much for hunting. 
Since I have been at the Chateau de Bretteville I haven’t 
fired a shot. But I shall be delighted to make a begin- 
ning with you, and if the ladies will fix the day for the- 
hunt in the forest of La Breteche I will give orders ta 
have everything ready.” 

“ Let the Duke choose any day which is convenient 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR ? 


193 


for him,” said du Pommeval, for the sole purpose of 
showing that he considered himself invited. 

“The Duke leaves everything to me. I have carte 
blanche to- organize the party. He only begs the ladies 
to excuse him if he is not present. He is overcome by 
his grief, and I reproach myself for having left him so 
long alone. I must therefore take leave of you, mad- 
ame,” said Roger, bowing before Germaine’s mother. 

“ What! You will not give us the pleasure of dining 
at La Germoniere?” cried Uncle Armand. 

“ Please excuse me. The Duke expects me, and if we 
hunt this week, as he desires, I shall be very busy from 
this evening on.” 

“ Suppose the hunt takes place day after to-morrow ? 
What do you say, ladies, and you, du Pommeval? Al- 
fred has no vote, since he has seen fit to deprive us of 
his company.” 

“Yes, yes, day after to-morrow!” cried Germaine, 
clapping her hands. 

“ That is entirely agreeable to me,” said du Pommeval. 

Laurence signified her approval by an inclination of 
the head, and Madame Daudierne raised no objections y 
although she wasn’t over pleased with the project. At 
any other time she would have been opposed to it, but 
Germaine’s marriage seemed to her so probable that she 
did not wish to deprive du Pommeval and Germaine of 
an amusement which they would both enjoy, and which 
might furnish opportunities for speaking freely without 
impropriety, as Uncle Armand would be of the party. 

Roger had decided to cut short his call because he had 
read in Germaine’s face that she advised him to go. He 
understood very well this mute language, easier to in- 
terpret than the language of flowers, and he divined why 
Germaine desired him to depart. The intelligent young 

13 


194 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


girl felt what Lieutenant Pdntac must suffer while M. 
Daudierne was unconsciously accusing him, and she 
feared that his patience would give out. It was no time 
for an explanation. It was better to keep quiet till jus- 
tice should perceive that she was pursuing a wrong 
course. 

An attempt was made to detain him. Du Pommeval, 
who did not wish to be behind in politeness, offered him 
his coup£ to return to Bretteville. He even went so far as 
to offer to take him there himself. Roger refused every- 
thing except a shake of the hand from his rival, to 
which he was obliged to submit. 

They separated, promising to meet on the next day 
but one. The meeting place for the hunt was fixed, by 
common consent, on the edge of the forest of La Bre- 
teche, at the foot of Lemon Rock, where the guests 
were to come in carriages, taking the road by which 
Germaine had returned the day Ralph ran away with 
her, an arrangement by no means displeasing to the hero- 
ine of that equestrian adventure. 

Roger had come on foot. He had left his horses in 
Africa, and he rarely used those which the Duke placed 
at his disposal. La Germoniere, besides, was only six 
kilometres from the chateau, and the lieutenant of hus- 
sars was as good a pedestrian as he was a horseman. He 
took the road he preferred ; that is, he crossed the gar- 
den and walked along the bank of the Beuvron to the 
park gate, which was only locked in the evening. 

The path led him directly to the place where the ferry 
was before it had been destroyed by the storm. 

He had once seen this ferry, needlessly constructed by 
the owners, who had scarcely ever used it, and who had 
not cared to expend any money upon it. He remembered 
the worm-eaten boat, the crooked posts on each bank to 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


195 


which was attached the cablej worn by constant friction. 
He remembered that Madame Vignemal never kept 
anything in repair, and it was a matter of surprise to 
him that the ferry, so poorly cared for, had lasted so 
long. 

The idea struck him of having a look at the place as 
he passed. He descended to the shore of the Beuvron 
and he saw that a fragment of broken rope was hang- 
ing to the post on the right bank and trailing in the 
water. He drew it in, and he saw, on examining it 
nearer, that the rotten rope was not strong enough to 
hold a heavy boat in a very rapid current. 

u It was simply an accident,” he thought, “ and an ac- 
cident which should have been foreseen. This cable has 
had perhaps twenty years of service. It certainly was 
not the fault of that vagabond, who is suspected by the 
magistrate, that it broke. And when I think that I too 
am suspected, I am tempted to believe that all those peo- 
ple are fools, including M. Daudierne, who repeats their 
stupid inventions. I remember now that Dr. Subligny 
asked me the other day if I knew Roch Ferrer. The 
same story had doubtless been related to him. He evi- 
dently attached no importance to it, but still I cannot re- 
main quiet under such an accusation, however absurd it 
may be. It is a miracle that no one in the place has dis- 
covered that Roger Pontac is living at the Chateau de 
Bretteville. I will not wait till they come to seek me 
there. Dr. Subligny wrote me from Paris that he 
would return to Arcy to-morrow or the day after. As 
soon as he does so, I will ask him to take me to this 
President Lestrigon, who so well informed M. Daud- 
ierne, and we will have a thorough explanation. I wish 
to put an end to false rumors.” 

Night was approaching. He did not stop to contem- 


196 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


plate the dangerous rive/, which had engulfed the Vig- 
nemals nor the towers of F ougeray, which could be per- 
ceived on the other bank, at the end of a grassy meadow. 
He ascended the bank again; he found the park gate 
open, and he took the road to Bretteville, thinking of the 
incidents of his visit to La Germoniere. 

He had found himself face to face with that Arthur 
du Pommeval, who had taken away from him a fortune, 
and who was a suitor for Mademoiselle Daudierne’s 
hand. He had seen him, spoken to him, and he ac- 
knowledged that the heir possessed everything necessary 
to please Germaine’s relations. Between an elegant 
millionaire and a poor sub-lieutenant, the battle was 
unequal. But still Roger did not despair. Germaine 
had not told him that she loved him, but she certainly 
did not love M. du Pommeval, since she wished him to 
marry her sister. Mademoiselle Laurence had chatted 
for a long time with the handsome Arthur, while Ger- 
maine accompanied on the piano an air appropriate for 
confidence. Was this a double omen, these two tete-a- 
tetes, which neither the mother nor the uncle had troub- 
led themselves about? Pontac hardly dared to believe 
it, but he felt that it was no longer in his power to es- 
cape his fate. He loved, and he was ready to sacrifice 
all to his love. W ar, military glory, advancement — he 
thought no more of. The breath of passion had blown 
away all the ambitions of his youth. It seemed to him 
now that he had only commenced to live the day when 
the echo of L£mon Rock repeated the sweet name of 
Germaine. 

The fancies which occupied his thoughts prevented 
him from noticing the noises to be heard upon a road 
bordered with trees and bushes, the rustling of the dry 
leaves, the whirr through the air of the birds. He kept 


OH, WHO IS THE HE in? 


197 


on with a regular, rapid step, without turning his head, 
and without letting his thoughts be distracted by the 
views presented at each turn of the road. 

The Beuvron was far off, and its gray waters 
sparkled in the clear autumn evening. 

Roger did not perceive a black speck floating in the 
middle of the current, and which was gradually ap- 
proaching the right bank. He still walked on until he 
reached the place where, a few days before he had left 
Mademoiselle Daudierne, when a man rose up on the 
bank not ten feet from him. 

This time, the lieutenant, startled suddenly from his 
reveries by the apparition, stopped short and faced the 
enemy. 

Roger was not in the least alarmed, and his campaigns 
in Africa had accustomed him to surprises, but he had 
learned, in making war upon the Arabs, that the first 
thing to be done is to place one’s self in a position of de- 
fense, when one comes face to face with a man on a sol- 
itary road. 

He instantly drew from his pocket a revolver, and 
after having cocked it, he tranquilly advanced toward 
the odd apparition, which seemed to have come out of 
the river. 

Night was coming on; it was difficult to distinguish 
objects in the dusky twilight and to exactly determine 
their proportions. The black silhouette against the gray 
sky appeared gigantic. 

On approaching, the officer of hussars perceived a tall 
man, clothed in skins like a native of Siberia, and drip- 
ping with water. 

The odd-looking stranger regarded him fixedly, but 
did not budge. It seemed as if he had determined not to 
leave the shore of the Beuvron, which was doubtless his 


1 ( J8 


WAS IT A MURDELl? 


line of retreat. His attitude had nothing offensive in it, 
and he seemed to have come there out of curiosity, for 
the pleasure of seeing a well-dressed man pass by. 

Roger required no great effort of memory to recall 
what had been told him at La Germoniere, and he very 
quickly divined that chance had brought him into the 
presence of the poacher, who was suspected of having 
played such a villainous part in the tragedy of the ferry. 
And he also remembered that the poacher was accused 
of acting in concert with a cousin of Madame Vignem- 
al’s, anxious to inherit his relative’s fortune. 

The cousin mentioned was himself, Roger Pontac, 
and this was a good opportunity to have an explanation 
with his pretended accomplice. 

“ Good evening, Roch,” he said coolly. 

“ Y ou know me ? ” cried the gypsy. 

“No, but people pretend that you know me.” 

“ I! Just now, I perceived you at a distance, at the 
moment when you were examining the broken rope.” 

“ Ah, really? Where were you ? ” 

“ In front of you, on the other side of the Beuv- 
ron.” 

“ And you are here now! You must have crossed the 
river then. I didn’t know there was a bridge.” 

“ I swam across.” 

“ To be sure, you are wet from head to foot. You 
don’t seem to be afraid of your skin.” 

“ I am afraid of nothing at all.” 

“ Not even justice, evidently.” 

“ If you mean the Duke’s gamekeepers or the town 
guards, you are right. I defy them. They may seek 
for me, they will never find me.” 

“ Others will arrest you, the gendarmes, for example, 
and you will be imprisoned in Arcy.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


199 


“ Why ? I have killed no one and I have never 
stolen.” 

“ Are you very sure of that ? ” 

“ To catch hares in the forest and carps in the river is 
not stealing.” 

“ Go and ask M. Daudierne what he thinks of your 
case.” 

“ Do you come from La Germoniere ?” 

“ Y ou know I do, as you saw me on the bank at the 
foot of the garden.” 

“ Is this the first time you have been there ? ” 

“No, the second.” 

“ Do you belong to Arcy ? ” 

“ Y ou are too curious, but I am willing enough to an- 
swer your questions on condition that you answer mine. 
No, I do not belong to Arcy, but I came from this part 
of the country, and I know many people here, Dr. Sub- 
ligny among others.” 

“ Dr. Subligny! Oh, has he spoken to you of me?” 

“ Yes, and he said nothing but good of you. But ev- 
erybody else is not of his opinion. M. Daudierne pre- 
tends that you aided to drown the Vignemals.” 

“ He knows quite the contrary. He was there when 
I tried to save them.” 

“ The public prosecutor was not there; and he accuses 
you.” 

“ It is possible. He questioned me the other day at 
F ougeray, and I suspected that he would have liked to 
have me arrested, but he didn’t dare to. There was 
nothing against me.” 

“ Do you know the Vignemals’ heirs? ” 

“The heirs?” 

“ Yes, the relations who will have their property.” 

“ I have heard it said that the husband had a nephew, 


200 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


and the wife some cousins, but I never troubled myself 
about them.” 

“ Then you do not know a man named Pontac? ” 

“ Not even by name.” 

“ Nor a M. du Pommeval.” 

“ I have seen him often. F or six months he has come 
almost every day to La Germoniere.” 

“ Y ou mount guard then over Madame Daudierne’s 
property.” 

“ No, but I see all those who are received at the chat- 
eau, when they enter and depart.” 

u Y ou have never seen me, have you ? ” 

“It was to see you close to that I crossed the Beu- 
vron.” 

“You spy upon the guests, it seems. Well, what do 
you think of me now that you have spoken to me?” 

“ I think that, if you are a friend of Dr. Subligny, you 
are an honest man.” 

“ You are right. The doctor has only honest men for 
his friends. And he is also the friend of M. du Pomm- 
eval.” 

“Oh! I detest him.” 

“ Bah! What has he done to you? ” 

“Nothing. He doesn’t even know that I exist. But 
I don’t like him.” 

“ Then, you won’t be glad to learn that, by the death 
of his uncle Vignemal, he has become owner of Fou- 
geray ? ” 

“ It’s all one to me.” 

“ And that he will be more of a neighbor than ever of 
the Daudierne family. He will end, perhaps, by marry- 
ing one of the young ladies.” 

“ Which ? ” asked the gypsy quickly. 

“ Ask him when you meet him,” answered Roger, 


OR, WHO IS TEH HEIR? 


201 


smiling. “ He can inform you much better than I, who 
am not in the secret of Madame Daudierne’s plans.” 

“ Then,” said Roch with embarrassment, “ you are not 
going to marry?” 

“No. I have not inherited a fortune, and they would 
not have a poor devil who has only his pay.” 

“ Ah ! Y ou belong to the army ? ” 

“ I am a cavalry officer, and I enlisted as a common 
soldier; you ought to do the same.” 

“ I have thought of it more than once, but — I don’t 
care to.” 

“ Why ? Y ou would make an admirable figure on 
horseback ; you are strong, adroit and bold ; you are ac- 
customed to privations. The life of an African chasseur 
would fit you like a glove.” 

“ Later, perhaps ; now, no. I wish to remain what I 
am.” 

“Vagabond and marauder. You will repent it, for 
the existence you lead will end badly, and that sooner 
than you think. You are watched, and one of these 
days you will be arrested. You will prove, I am sure 
of that, that you had no hand in the accident, which cost 
two persons their lives, but you will be found guilty of 
having hunted and fished without permission. And when 
you have served your time in prison, you will commence 
again, and the second offence is severely punished. Be- 
lieve me, Roch, lose no time; come to me to-morrow at 
the Chateau de Bretteville. I will give you a letter for 
the officer who commands my regiment at Castres, and 
the money for the journey. You will be enlisted at 
once, and in six months I shall see you in my squadron. 
Y ou will see something of foreign lands, have a crack at 
the Arabs, — that is very good fun, — and next year you 
will be a brigadier. The gendarmes who are seeking to 


202 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


imprison you will find themselves mistaken in their 
calculations.” 

“ At the Chateau de Bretteville? You are then the 
Duke’s son ? ” 

“ No; no relation; but I am staying with him. I shall 
expect you there to-morrow, and if you wish to consult 
Dr. Subligny before deciding, we will go to Arcy to- 
gether to see him.” 

Roger Pontac had forgotten one of the recommenda- 
tions of the ex-surgeon-major, who knew better than he 
the state of affairs, and who had advised him to avoid 
the savage of the Beuvron. And he thought no more of 
the ridiculous suspicion which M. Armand Daudierne 
had spoken of. 

He did not admit that a French officer could seriously 
be accused of having paid some one to drown his cousin, 
and now that he had talked with Roch Ferrer, he con- 
sidered him to be an honest fellow, incapable of com- 
mitting so cowardly a crime. He did not ask himself 
why Roch was so anxious to remain on Madame Daud- 
ierne’s lands, nor why he had crossed the river for the 
sole purpose of examining a gentleman who had come 
from the garden of La Germoniere. He only thought 
of putting him in the right track, by opening to him an 
honorable career. 

“ Is it settled, then; will you come? ” 

Roch, instead of replying, faced about, leaped into the 
Beuvron, and commenced to swim vigorously toward the 
opposite bank. 

“Well!” exclaimed Roger, amazed, “ decidedly that 
fellow has no desire for a military life. It is too bad. 
He would have made an excellent soldier, but I’ll be 
hanged if I can see why he crossed the Beuvron ex- 
pressly to see me. I forgot to ask, and, to judge by the 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


203 


questions he put to me, I should be almost tempted to be- 
lieve that he watched the gentlemen who visited La 
Germoniere. He asked me if I was going to be married, 
and he detests du Pommeval. Possibly, he has fallen 
in love with one of the young ladies. Well, I have 
done my best to decide him to depart. But I will tell 
Mademoiselle Germaine about it, and I am sure she will 
approve my action.” 

Roger was not mistaken in that, but he could not 
divine that Laurence was about to enter upon the stage 
in the domestic drama in which he played the role of 
first lover. 


CHAPTER VI. 


At La Germoniere dinner was always a lively meal, 
whether there were guests or not. 

The table was abundantly furnished, the cooking was 
admirable, and, what was better still, all the Daudiernes 
had good appetites, good digestions, and very few cares. 
Numerous enough to suffice for themselves, they took 
pleasure in bandying jests, and the conversation never 
languished. 

Uncle Armand talked easily and drank deeply. He 
had filled his sister-in-law’s cellars with the choicest 
wines, and as he had traveled a great deal and had been 
very observant he was never at a loss for interesting 
stories. 

His nephew, Alfred, did what he could to imitate him, 
but fell far short of his model. After the third glass he 
could not distinguish between the best wine and the 
poorest, and he indulged in Parisian anecdotes which 
subjected him to frequent calls to order. He none the 
less, however, furnished his quota to the general gaiety, 
for his sisters were amused at his vagaries, and Uncle 
Armand never lost an opportunity to make fun of him 
when he attempted to relate his experiences. 

Germaine was always ready to laugh. Laurence, 
more serious, was by no means gloomy, and their moth- 
er possessed, among other good qualities, a very even 
temper. 

So every day there was a gay time in the dining- 
room, charmingly arranged by the mistress of the house, 
who was a wonderfully good housekeeper. 

- 204 - 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


205 


When there were guests every one exerted tnemselves 
to the utmost, and this often happened during the summer. 

Madame Daudierne, breaking with the traditions of 
the province, did not give state dinner parties. She did 
not send out her invitations fifteen days in advance, and 
she did not consider that she was obliged to regale her 
guests with six or seven courses. People came when 
they wished, and were always well received. 

The ladies of Arcy, who did not practice this system, 
thought that she was too easy-going and that she did 
not live in a manner befitting her fortune. They accept- 
ed whenever they were asked to stay to dinner after a 
call, but it was to see what people ate in Paris. And M. 
Armand, who always spoke frankly, did not let the op- 
portunity slip to tell prodigious fibs as to the customs of 
the society of which they were ignorant. When the 
fancy took him to enrage them, he would amuse himself 
by announcing that he intended soon to invite the new 
sub-prefect, who was tabooed by the best society of the 
little city. 

The gentlemen were always glad to remain to dinner, 
especially the young ones, who knew the evening would 
pass pleasantly. 

And when only the most intimate friends of the family 
were present, many absurd things were said of the good 
people of Arcy. But the pleasantries never went too 
far, and when the guests were the object of them they 
were the first to laugh at their own expense. 

Arthur du Pommeval was very often at the table of 
La Germoniere, for he was received on a footing of in- 
timacy, and at that time was liked by all. 

They were grateful to him for preferring a quiet 
family party to the excitement of baccarat and discus- 
sions as to the relative merits of horses. 


206 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


It should be added that his situation as a candidate for 
marriage was of advantage to him, and that he con- 
ducted himself in that difficult position with the greatest 
delicacy and tact. He behaved in such a way as to let 
it be thought that he considered it too great an honor to 
enter into the family, and that if he did not declare him- 
self openly it was through excess of modesty. 

And in not pronouncing for one or the other of the 
young ladies he had taken the best means of rendering 
himself agreeable to both. 

The younger, who never thought of marrying, found 
him exceedingly amusing and pleasant. She acknowl- 
edged that his absence was missed at all parties, that 
there were no good dances without him, and her sister 
did not contradict her. 

But the tragic death of the Vignemals had changed 
all this. The heir was finally obliged to make up his 
mind, and, as always hapjoens when a hesitating man 
decides suddenly, he had satisfied no one. 

Laurence, wounded to the heart, could not pardon 
him for having deceived her, and Germaine, who saw 
the state of affairs only too clearly, felt no gratitude for 
the tardy preference with which he had honored her. 

Madame Daudierne was not particularly pleased; she 
was even almost angry with du Pommeval because she 
had been mistaken as to his intentions. 

Uncle Armand, also, who was not discontented at the 
choice made by his protege, did not like him quite as well 
as before, although he would have been puzzled to tell 
why. 

Alfred had no particular opinion on the subject. He 
congratulated himself on the prospect of being the 
brother-in-law of a good fellow, who understood life 
and from whom it was easy to borrow. It mattered lit- 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


207 


tie to him whether this obliging friend wedded Laur- 
ence or Germaine. 

And in the new situation of affairs created by the pro- 
posal officially presented by Dr. Subligny, Roger Pon- 
tac counted only as an agreeable neighbor, a valuable re- 
cruit to help make the winter in the country pass pleas- 
antly. 

He had pleased every one. M. Daudierne was de- 
lighted with him. Madame Daudierne praised his 
superb figure and his modest language. Laurence found 
him agreeable, although she had scarcely looked at him, 
and still less listened to him. Alfred dreamed of aston- 
ishing him by hunting exploits and feats of equestrian 
prowess. Du Pommeval held him in particular consider- 
ation because of the interest taken in him by the Duke 
de Bretteville. Germaine did not say so much as the 
others, but she thought all the more, and no one guessed 
her thoughts. 

The day when the officer of hussars first met Arthur 
du Pommeval at La Germoniere there was a great deal 
said about him after his departure. 

Arthur had remained. His mourning did ot prevent 
him from passing the evening with a few friends, now 
that he almost belonged to the family, and he was de- 
termined to take advantage of the privileges granted in 
such cases to admitted suitors. 

At dinner, Germaine was in her accustomed spirits. 
Her mother, her uncle and her brother did their best to 
make it pleasant. But one false note is sufficient to des- 
troy the most perfect harmony, and Laurence struck it, 
although gently and without apparent ill-humor. She 
uttered words which were very severe upon the young 
men of Arcy, and Arthur in particular. She exalted the 
merit of those who are dependent upon their own exer- 


208 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


tions and who do not count upon the fortunes of others 
for their position in life. 

She said so much that M. Daudierne wondered if 
Lieutenant Pontac had made a very strong impression 
upon her, and he laughed at her for her romantic ideas. 
Madame Daudierne, who knew her better, attached less 
importance to her words, but she saw that the poor girl 
only spoke as she did to hide her suffering, and she 
almost reproached herself for having tolerated, if not en- 
couraged M. du Pommeval. She even thought vaguely of 
withdrawing the consent which had been drawn from 
her, and of trying to lead back the fickle heir to his first 
love, but he had no appearance of repentance. He flirted 
openly with the younger sister, without caring anything 
for the other’s feelings. It was clear that he*thought he 
had a right to choose, and that he did not regret the 
choice he had made. 

Germaine behaved in such a Way that it was almost 
impossible to tell if she was flattered by the attentions of 
her neighbor at the table, or if she simply took pleasure 
in leading him on to an absurd gallantry and ridiculous 
compliments. 

When they arose to go into the salon, du Pommeval 
himself was quite embarrassed. There was no question 
of music. It was well enough for a sub-lieutenant in an 
African regiment to sing Arab songs. Arthur’s new 
fortune placed him above such things. And when they 
had exhausted indifferent subjects of conversation, praised 
the courtesy of the Duke de Bretteville, and made the 
arrangements for going to the hunt in the forest of La 
Breteche, Arthur felt that it was time for him to take 
his leave. 

They did not try to detain him, but they parted on 
good terms. Uncle Armand and Alfred accompanied 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


209 


him to his carriage, and Madame Daudierne having left 
the room for a moment to give some orders to the ser- 
vants, the two sisters were alone. 

“ Y ou gave the handsome Arthur a fine lashing,” said 
Germaine, laughing. “ Y ou did right. He deserved it. 
I did not care to help you. But one of these days, I 
will take a hand also, and you shall see that we two will 
lead him back to the right path.” 

“ He has taken the one he preferred,” replied Lau- 
rence, “ and I shan’t turn him from it.” 

u Then I shall, my dear sister. I would tell you how, 
but it is a secret which I want to keep for a few days.” 

“Oh! as long as you like. I shan’t seek to discover 
it, and I shall not do M. du Pommeval the honor of 
troubling myself about him.” 

“ That is right. That would not be the way to lead 
him back. Now, you love him, and — ” 

Laurence protested by a gesture, but Germaine con- 
tinued gaily. 

“And I do not love him. You think that I don’t 
mean it? Suppose I should tell you that I love an- 
other ? ” 

At this moment Madame Daudierne came back and 
Uncle Armand soon reappeared. Alfred had retired to 
make up for a night spent at baccarat. No one was de- 
sirous of prolonging the evening, although it was scarcely 
ten o’clock. 

“ Our friend is certainly a charming fellow,” said M. 
Daudierne. 

“ Of whom are you speaking, uncle ?” asked Germaine 
maliciously. 

“ Of Arthur, of course! The officer of hussars is very 
agreeable also, but he is a bird of passage, while du 
Pommeval is and will remain master of Fougeray.” 

14 


210 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“He isn’t so yet. That all depends upon Roch Fer- 
rer. If that savage should declare that Madame Vig 
nemal was still living when he left her on the bank, his 
inheritance would end in smoke; you said so your- 
self.” 

“ Have no fear, my dear; that won’t happen. Even 
if the gypsy should be paid for inventing lies, no one 
would believe the words of such a knave.” 

“ V ery well ? Let us go to bed. I shan’t dream of 
the money of our poor neighbors.” 

Upon this declaration, they all went to their cham- 
bers, after the accustomed ceremonies of good-nights and 
kisses. 

All the family had rooms on the first floor, except 
Alfred, who had established himself on the ground floor 
in order to be free to go out at night, when the fancy 
took him to mount Ralph and ride off to play baccarat 
at Arcy. 

Madame Daudierne’s apartment was situated between 
Laurence’s and Germaine’s, which had no interior com- 
munication with her own. 

The druggist, in constructing his country-house, had 
arranged it like a barrack. An interminable corridor, 
upon which opened a dozen doors, traversed the whole 
building, ending on one side in the grand staircase and 
on the other in the servant’s staircase. It was ugly, but 
it was convenient. 

Uncle Armand’s room looked out on the court; Mad- 
ame Daudierne’s and her daughters’ on the garden. 

“ Now, at last, I can cry,” murmured Laurence, after 
locking her door. 

And throwing herself into an arm chair, she burst into 
tears.' 

No one who had seen her in the salon and at the table 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


211 


would have suspected that she had taken refuge in her 
chamber to sob like a child. 

As long as the cruel ordeal, imposed upon her by the 
false situation in which she was placed, had lasted, she 
was able to contain herself. She did not wish to make 
her sorrow public. Her mother and her uncle had per- 
ceived that her pride suffered, but they did not think that 
her heart was wounded. Du Pommeval himself had 
seen nothing in her manner or her language but the ef- 
fects of a very natural ill-humor. He imagined that she 
was sulky and that she would soon be consoled at losing 
him. 

Germaine indeed was not deceived, but Germaine had 
a plan, and she judged it useless to take any notice of a 
pain which she flattered herself she could soon cure. 

Laurence was therefore obliged to force back her 
tears, for she was proud and did not wish any one to 
pity her. Her frank nature revolted against treachery. 
She would have died of sorrow rather than try to win 
back the man who had forsaken her, or even to allow 
him to believe that she considered his faithlessness of 
little account. 

Dissimulation and coquetry were foreign to her na- 
ture. 

And yet her heart was breaking, while Roger Pontac 
was singing in Arabic of the melodious bird flying to 
the well-beloved. Till that decisive moment when she 
was free to have an explanation with the forgetful Ar- 
thur, she had deceived herself. Dr. Subligny had asked 
Germaine’s hand for the heir of the Vignemals, but this 
proceeding was so unexpected that all the persons inter- 
ested had asked if it had been well considered, and if it 
were not a thoughtless act inspired by a passing spite. 
M. du Pommeval was doubtless piqued at having made 


212 


WAS IT A MURDER t 


advances to which Laurence had responded only with 
reserve. The place which he held in Arcy society, and 
certain Parisian successes, had given him a high opinion 
of himself, and he had imagined that, to win the elder 
sister, he must pretend to be seeking the younger. 

These proceedings would succeed with certain women, 
and he had perhaps judged Laurence by those he had 
known. 

The injury was a grave one, and the noble girl, whom 
he confounded with creatures without a heart, resented 
it deeply ; but neither her mother nor her sister seemed 
to attach any importance to the sudden change of front* 
Madame Daudierne had responded evasively, Germaine 
had only laughed, and in repeating to Laurence the 
words of the good doctor, they had taken care to ask 
her her sentiments as to the new situation in which the 
mission which Dr. Subligny had fulfilled so well had 
placed all three of them. 

Unfortunately, as we have said, Laurence was very 
proud, and when she was wounded she retired into her- 
self like a sensitive plant. She thought it unworthy of 
herself to complain, and she wished above all to hear M* 
du Pommeval himself, to force him to confess that he 
had pledged himself and broken his vows; to tell him, 
without recrimination, all the contempt with which his 
conduct inspired her, and to leave him then to his re- 
morse. 

Laurence, strongly pressed for a reply, was wrong in 
protesting that M. du Pommeval was free to marry 
whom he pleased, and her too credulous mother was 
content with this rather vague declaiation. 

The poor girl thus prepared for herself a cruel decep- 
tion. 

All was over now. The faithless du Pommeval, 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


213 


forced to declare himself, made scarcely any effort at 
defence, and his embarrassed protestations had compelled 
her to abandon her last illusion. There was nothing 
more to expect from this provincial Lovelace, who 
changed his love with a change of fortune, and who, to 
arrange a marriage suited to the moderate fortune he 
possessed before the ferry disaster, had not hesitated to 
feign a passion he was incapable of feeling. 

Five minutes conversation was sufficient for Laurence 
to judge him. She saw through his selfish calculations, 
his paltry ambition, his compromise with his conscience; 
she knew that he did not deserve that she should regret 
him ; she reproached herself for ever having loved him, 
and she was ashamed of loving him still. 

“No,” she murmured, drying her tears, “no, I no 
longer love him; I hate him, I despise him, and I will 
be revenged. He shall not deceive Germaine as he has 
deceived me. She declared that he was indifferent to 
her, and she does not lie. She never lies, and yet she 
receives him ; she does not discourage him ; she did not 
refuse him when mother told her that he had asked for 
her hand. Can I believe what she told me, that she 
wishes to bring him back to me ? If she is sincere, she 
is very foolish. She can refuse him, but however im- 
pudent he may be, he will not have the audacity to seek 
me again. He understands that I also would refuse 
him, now that I know him as he is. And who knows 
if Germaine will not be deceived by the shameless part 
he is playing ? He may persuade her that he has always 
been in love with her. Why should she be less credu- 
lous than I have been? Just now she started to tell me 
that she cared for another. That cannot be so. To 
whom could she have given her heart? She makes fun 
of all the young men who come here. That officer 


214 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


whom she accompanied on the piano? That is impossi- 
ble. She scarcely knows him; she has only seen him 
twice, and they haven’t exchanged ten words. She said 
that to reassure me, and there is nothing to prevent her 
from falling into the trap that traitor has laid for her. 
She will fall all the more easily as every one will urge 
her on, excepting me. My mother, my uncle and my 
brother all approve M. du Pommeval’s intentions, and 
will aid him. She will resist, but she will end by yield- 
ing. Heaven is my witness that if I thought he loved 
her sincerely, if I could only hope that he would not 
make her the most unhappy of women, I would forget 
my own wrongs and sacrifice all to my sister; all, even 
my just resentment. I would pardon M. du Pommeval 
for having preferred Germaine to me. But his only 
purpose in this marriage is the satisfaction of a caprice. 
He is rich now, and he wishes to marry a young girl 
whom he finds prettier than me. And when his fancy 
is over he will ill-treat her, as he has ill-treated me. No, 
no ! that shall not be ! I will not have it ! ” exclaimed 
Laurence, rising. 

The chamber was dimly lighted ; a wood fire burned 
in the white marble fireplace, and the soft rays of anight 
lamp fell upon the snowy bed, at the foot of which slept 
a great Danish hound, of which both sisters were very 
fond, and they allowed him to sleep wherever he chose. 

This spotted representative of an almost extinct breed 
guarded alternately Laurence and Germaine. 

On this particular night it was Laurence’s turn, and 
she must have been terribly pre-occupied not to respond 
to his caresses. Belt, discouraged, had stretched himself 
out upon a buffalo skin which M. Daudierne had brought 
from America, and occasionally raised his head to gaze 
attentively at his mistress’ movements. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


215 


She walked back and forth across the little apartment 
in which she had passed so many happy hours before 
knowing Arthur du Pommeval. More reserved than 
her sister, she had always had a decided taste for soli- 
tude, and she loved to shut herself up in her pretty nest 
where no one came to trouble her. She remained there 
entire days, copying old engravings or painting from na- 
ture flowers which she cultivated herself in beautiful 
jardinieres, the gifts of Uncle Armand. 

She would often sit for a long time before the win 
dow, contemplating the beautiful landscape spread out 
before her, the great trees in the park, and beyond, the 
clear waters of the Beuvron, and further still the red 
roofs of F ougeray and the chain of blue hills which shut 
out the horizon. She was not romantic like her 
sister; she had no taste for adventures; and the in- 
cident of the L^mon Rock would have had no 
effect upon her. She understood life in a different fash- 
ion from Germaine. She kept watch over her heart, for 
fear of giving it away too lightly. Before loving, she 
wished to be sure that she was loved. 

And it was only after having studied Arthur du 
Pommeval’s character for a long time, that she had re- 
sponded to the very marked advances of the leader among 
the young men of Arcy. She liked him, but she wished 
to put him to the proof, and the result had been favor- 
able. Laurence had never doubted that he felt for her 
a deep and respectful affection. Still less had she sus- 
pected that he thought of Germaine. And little by little, 
she had grown to love him, without however being 
blind to his imperfections. She saw them very clearly ; 
she felt that he lacked energy, firmness and fixedness of 
purpose; that, left to himself, he would probably end 
like his father, who had ruined himself through his van- 


216 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


ity. But she pardoned him all these faults, because she 
thought him loyal and true ; perhaps, even, she was not 
sorry that he had them, because she hoped to correct 
them. She flattered herself that he would sacrifice his 
tastes to her, and she took delight in the thought of re- 
forming him. 

A more perfect suitor could not have procured for 
her that satisfaction, so dear to all women. Du Pomm- 
eval, besides had given her to understand that he longed 
for a domestic life, spending the winter in Paris and the 
summer at La Germoniere. He reviled the false pleas- 
ures and empty existence of the silly young men who 
did not understand that true happiness rested in marriage. 
And as he was sincere at the moment when he spoke, 
Laurence had believed him, and had determined never 
to marry any one but him. She only waited an oppor- 
tunity to allow him to declare himself, to engage herself 
to him, and to open her heart to her mother, whom she 
blamed a little for not having consulted her on the sub- 
ject. 

One day was sufficient to put to flight these deceptive 
hopes. Her dream vanished. Laurence fell from the 
height of hex illusions, and the only sentiment that re- 
mained to her was the desire to punish the traitor who 
had plunged her in despair. 

“Yes,” she murmured, “he shall expiate his treach- 
ery. Germaine will lead him on by promises which do 
not commit her, and will end by dismissing him. He 
deserves it for having deceived me, and his pride will suf- 
fer. But that is not enough. He must be struck in what 
he holds most dear, the fortune which has perverted his 
heart. He thinks he can do anything, because chance 
has thrown millions into his lap. If he should sink back 
in.to the position he occupied before the accident, it would 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


217 


be the bitterest punishment to him. The inheritance is 
the thing he must lose; and my uncle declares that it 
will not even be contested.” 

Laurence had approached the window, and was gaz- 
ing absently out. The night was clear enough to dis- 
tinguish the waters of the Beuvron, marked by a long 
line of fog. 

“ And yet,” she continued, “ that gypsy saw Madame 
Vignemal cast upon the bank. Was she dead? He 
alone can answer, and if he should say that she was still 
living when he saw her, all would be changed. My 
uncle declared just now that M. du Pommeval had only 
Roch Ferrer’s testimony to fear, and if I should will it, 
Roch Ferrer would speak. Didn’t he tell me in the 
Tertre wood that he was ready to do anything I com- 
manded him ? And I have only to call him. He told 
me the signal : that if I would put a light in my win- 
dow, he would come to the bank at the foot of the gar- 
den.” 

Laurence had worked herself up to the highest pitch 
of excitement, and, perhaps in order not to allow herself 
time for reflection, she seized the lamp which burned be- 
side the bed, and placed it on the window-sill. 

The Danish hound rose and rubbed his nose against 
Laurence’s hand, after she had arranged the light. 

One could have sworn that he understood the gravity 
of this very simple action. His soft, intelligent eyes 
seemed to say to his mistress : I am ready to follow you 
anywhere and to defend you against anything. 

She also comprehended that in giving the signal ex- 
pected by the poacher, she had done wrong, and that 
this first step might le^d her further than she wished to 

g°- 

To communicate with Roch F errer, with that insolent 


218 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


gypsy who had the audacity to love her, was of itself 
.compromising. And to go and meet him at the place he 
had appointed was worse still, it was to break through all 
the rules imposed upon a well brought up young girl. 

Giddy as she was, Germaine would never have done 
so much. 

True, Germaine was not able to judge Roch Ferrer. 
She had only seen him for an instant the evening of the 
accident. She had not, like her sister, heard his protes- 
tations of abject and passionate devotion. It was not 
to Germaine that he had said, “ You can dispose of me 
as of a slave. My life belongs to you.” Germaine did 
not know that this savage was capable of respecting a 
woman, and of obeying her blindly. 

“ Below there, on the edge of the Tertre wood,” mur- 
mured Laurence, “ I was at his mercy. I lost my head, 
when he seized my horse’s bridle; my sister was far 
away, and my uncle also. Roch might have carried me 
away, before any one could have come to my rescue. 
And I had only to look at him to make him lower his 
eyes, to order him to depart, for him to go. I have noth- 
ing to fear from him. At the first disdainful word I 
should utter, if he should forget what he is and who I 
am, he would fall at my feet and implore my pardon. 
And then, the bank of the Beuvron is at the bottom of 
the garden, two hundred feet from here. If I should call, 
I should be heard in the house; besides, I shall take Belt 
with me. You will protect me, won’t you, Belt? ” 

The hound showed his white teeth, growling gently, 
as if answering, in his dog’s language : “ Rely upon 
me.” 

Laurence reasoned thus to gain courage, but she felt 
that this plan of a nocturnal excursion was a danger- 
ous folly, and that she at least risked her reputation in 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


219 


venturing forth at such an hour to meet a vagabond 
who braved the law and the gendarmes. 

“ I should expose myself to no purpose,” she thought. 
“ Roch does not pass all his nights watching my window. 
How can I believe that he is at a certain point on the 
bank of the Beuvron? The vengeance I hoped for will 
escape me. No one will trouble M. du Pommeval’s se- 
curity.” 

She was about to leave the window, when she saw a 
light appear at the bottom of the garden. It was only 
a luminous point, but a point which was lowered and 
raised alternately. 

“ He has perceived my lamp, and he is answering me 
that he is there,” she murmured, “ I was mistaken; he 
has waited there constantly, and he is ready. He keeps 
his promise; he would give me his life if I should de- 
mand it. And shall I recompense his heroic devotion 
by letting him believe that I have given the signal to 
put him to the proof and to mock him? That would 
almost authorize him to come and call me under my 
window, and scale the walls to reach me; and he would 
do it; no obstacle stops him. No, I do not wish to be 
the cause of a misfortune or of a scandal. If my uncle 
should discover him trying to force the door he would 
shoot him, and if he should encounter him in the house 
he would suspect me of having let him in. It is better 
to go and meet a danger than wait for it here. Come, 
Belt.” 

She took away the lamp from the window and lighted 
a little lantern; and throwing a cloak over her shoulders, 
she glided out of her chamber, and noiselessly directed 
her steps toward the servants’ staircase. The dog pre- 
ceded her, stepping cautiously. He divined that she 
did not wish any one to hear her. 


220 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


The walls were thick and the corridor was carpeted. 
At the foot of the staircase was a little door, which 
opened into the garden, the key of which was always in 
the lock. 

Laurence couia go out without awakening any one. 

The most difficult part was over. She had only to 
follow the path which led to the river; a walk of five 
minutes over familiar ground. 

The young girl no longer hesitated. Her resolution 
was taken. And she had no fear. She was sure Roch 
would not abuse the situation. Upon what was this cer- 
tainty founded? She could hardly have told. It was a 
sort of intuition which soldiers are very familiar with. 
There are days when a man goes into battle, saying, “ I 
shall not be killed,” and he is not on that day. 

The moving light which she had seen was no longer 
visible, but its disappearance did not disturb Mademois- 
elle Daudierne. Roch had said to her in the Tertre 
wood : ‘ Come to the bank and walk to the place where 
the row of tamarinds ends.’ She remembered his words, 
and she had no doubt but that she would find him at the 
place indicated. 

Belt had his nose in the air, and as his mistress reached 
the bank, he suddenly bounded forward, but without 
barking. 

“ He knows him, then,” thought Laurence. 

This fact had its fortunate side, for the dog’s barks 
would have attracted the attention of a gardener or a 
keeper. 

But, on the other hand, she could no longer count on 
Belt’s protection. The dog had gone over to the enemy. 

He soon came back, still silent and gambolling joy- 
ously about, then darting off again to disappear in the 
shadows, only to reappear and recommence the same 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


221 


play, which evidently signified: I have found a comrade, 
and I am going to bring him to you. 

“ His instinct does not deceive him,” she thought, M He 
knows that the man, who has caressed him more than 
once, has no evil intention.” 

Still, before going further, she stopped an instant to 
listen and look about her. The silence of the night was 
broken only by the murmur of the west wind amidst the 
branches of the tamarinds. There was no light in any 
of the windows of the chateau. Everybody was asleep. 

Mademoiselle Daudierne had no help to expect except 
from her own bravery and coolness, which had once be- 
fore aided her in a difficult situation. But she had every 
confidence in herself, and she advanced calmly. 

She had scarcely taken ten steps, when she perceived 
Belt, standing motionless with his head turned toward 
the river. She still advanced, calling softly to the dog, 
who did not stir, and by the light of the lantern she car- 
ried, she saw Roch F errer leaning against the trunk of 
a great oak at the end of the avenue of tamarinds. 

“ I have come, because I can trust you,” she said in a 
voice which trembled a little. 

“ Thank you,” murmured the poacher, much more 
moved than the young girl. “ I did not hope that you 
would remember me. Now, whatever you demand of 
me, I am rewarded enough, since you have not forgotten 
that I was ready to do anything to serve you. The peo- 
ple hereabouts hate and fear me. You have no fear of 
me and you speak to me kindly. That is more than 
enough to pay for my life, if you wish to take it.” 

u There is no question of anything of that sort. Let 
me explain to you in the beginning why you have in- 
spired me with confidence. Dr. Subligny has spoken 
well of you, and I should have already asked you to 


222 


WAS IT A MTIRDER? 


come to the house, if the other day, in the Tertre wood, 
you had not behaved so ridiculously.” 

“ I am a fool, I know it.” 

“ I forgive you, because I hope you will be cured. If 
I did not hope so, I should not be here. And I see that 
I was right not to listen to those who speak ill of you. If 
you were a bad man, my dog would not have allowed 
you to approach.” 

Laurence felt that she nad nothing more to fear. In 
risky enterprises, the situation of affairs is generally 
shown in the very beginning. There was nothing alarm- 
ing in the poacher’s language or attitude. Roch Ferrer 
was what she had judged him to be at their first inter- 
view. 

“ Belt seems to know you,” she continued. 

“ He comes to see me every evening before entering 
La Germoniere,” responded the Bohemian, gently. “An- 
imals are fond of me.” 

“To see you! He knows where you live then? We * 
do not.” 

“ He knows that, at night, I am never far from your 
garden. He seeks and finds me. F or the last seven 
days he has swum across the Beuvron to dine with me.” 

“ You are established on the left bank then? ” 

“Yes, just in front of your garden. There are some 
bushes there from which one can see all that takes place 
at the chateau. I could tell you at what time your win- 
dow is lighted each evening, and at what time your light 
is put out.” 

“ I understand now how it was you answered my sig- 
nal so quickly, for it was you, I suppose, who swung 
that lantern.” 

“ It wasn’t a lantern. It was a torch which I made 
myself. There are plenty of pines on the Fougeray 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR t 


223 


grounds, and I gashed the trees to obtain the resin. You 
see that I am no better than my reputation. I take what 
doesn’t belong to me.” 

“ That is very bad, and if you wish to see me again, 
you must live otherwise. But it is time for me to tell 
you why I have come. I want to obtain some informa- 
tion from you.” 

Roch lowered his eyes and made a gesture of disap- 
pointment. He had hoped that Laurence wished some- 
thing more of him than information. 

If he had been in any condition to reflect, he could 
scarcely have helped seeing that Mademoiselle Daud- 
ierne would not have risked this nocturnal walk simply 
to obtain information. 

“ Y ou were present when our poor neighbors of F ou- 
geray met their death,” she said. 

“ Yes,” answered the poacher, lifting his head quickly, 
“ I was there when the rope broke.” 

“ And you leaped into the water to save them. You 
even found Madam Vignemal’s body, but unfortunately 
the current carried it away again.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I know that, but I would like to know if — every 
thing took place exactly as you related it to my uncle 
and Dr. Subligny.” 

“ Y ou think then that I lied ?” 

“ I think perhaps you had some motive, some reason 
for not telling them the truth.” 

Roch started and regarded the young girl fixedly. 

“ Oh! ” she continued. “ I have no right to catechise 
you, and you are free to answer me or not, as you may 
choose.” 

“ I have sworn to obey you. Speak, I will conceal 
nothing from you.” 


224 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ W ell ! It has occurred to me that perhaps Madame 
Vignemal was still living when you found her, and that, 
for fear of being blamed for having left her on the bank, 
you allowed it to be thought that you did not know 
whether she were dead or not, and that you were cer- 
tain that she was not.” 

“The magistrate who questioned me at Fougeray 
spoke to me in the same way,” murmured the Bohemian, 
visibly troubled. 

“ And you persisted in your first statement. That was 
quite natural, but you are not answering a magistrate 
now, but — a friend, who asks you to be sincere. Was 
Madame Vignemal living?” 

“ Yes,” answered Roch Ferrer, without hesitation. 

“ Are you sure of it !” 

“Now — I am sure of it.” 

“Now, you say? Did you doubt it at the time you 
saw her?” 

“ I did not doubt, but I could not prove it. Since then, 
I have found the proof.” 

“ And you can furnish this proof ?” cried Mademoiselle 
Daudierne. 

“To you, yes,” responded Roch Ferrer. “ I can prove 
that Madame Vignemal recovered consciousness, while 
I was going to the chateau for aid.” 

“ Well, prove it to me,” exclaimed Laurence. “Ex- 
plain yourself more intelligibly. How do you know 
what happened on the bank of the Beuvron, when you 
were away ?” 

“ Will you believe me if I explain it to you?” 

“ Yes, I will believe you. Why should you lie to me? 
You could be silent if you choose.” 

“ And I should be silent if any one else questioned 
me; for if I should make to another the avowal I am 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR t 


225 


about to make to you, it would cost me dear. But I told 
you that if you demanded my life, I would give it. I do 
so now, for after having heard me, you will have a feel- 
ing of horror toward me, and that will kill me.” 

Laurence turned pale. She had not expected this de- 
claration and she understood what it might mean. The 
suspicions of the public prosecutor were evidently well 
founded, as Uncle Armand had declared. 

Roch F errer had committed a crime. And this crime 
he was about to confess to Mademoiselle Daudierne. 
She had sought for some one to help her punish Arthur 
du Pommeval, and she had found a murderer. The idea 
of becoming his confidant revolted her, and she thought 
of nothing now but of cutting short the interview for 
fear of learning what she preferred to remain ignorant 
of. 

“No! No!” she cried. “Tell me nothing more. 
Y ou have said too much already.” 

“ Too much and not enough,” answered Roch. “If 
I should stop here, you would take me for an assassin. 
You must know all. You shall judge me afterward, 
and if you condemn me, I will execute your sentence 
without a complaint.” 

The situation was changed. Laurence could not re- 
fuse to listen to Roch Ferrer, now that he asked to jus- 
tify himself, and she began to hope that he was not as 
culpable as she had thought after hearing his first 
speech. 

“ Speak,” she murmured. 

“ I did not kill them,” said Roch firmly, “ but I could 
have prevented their death, and I did not do so.” 

“What! My uncle and Dr. Subligny told us that 
you leaped into the water, and dived for them over and 
over again.” 


15 


226 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ That is true. But before the accident I was hidden 
in the bushes, a few steps from the path they took on 
their way to embark. They did not see me; but I saw 
them, and I knew they were going to cross the river. 
At that moment, it depended upon me to save their 
lives. I had only to appear and warn them.” 

“ You could not foresee the accident which happened?” 

“ I knew that the rope of the ferry was rotten and 
that it would not withstand the force of the current. I 
knew it so well, that for a month I had kept constant 
watch. If a peasant or one of your domestics had tried 
to cross, I should have prevented it.” 

“ If you had told us, we should have had it attended 
to.” 

“ I did not fear that any misfortune would happen to 
you or yours. The boat was tied on the other side; it 
could only be used by the people of F ougeray, and I 
was at war with them.” 

“ At war! because they forbade you to hunt on their 
land ! And it was to revenge yourself because you had 
been pursued by their gamekeepers, that you let them go 
to their death ! ” 

“ No;” said the poacher quickly, “ if it had been only 
that, I should have stopped them, and pointed out to 
them their danger.” 

“ What else had they done to you ?” 

“ Nothing. But when I saw that they were going to 
La Germoniere, I thought — ” 

“ What?” 

“ I thought that M. Vignemal was going to ask your 
hand for his nephew.” 

This response, more unexpected than all the others, 
troubled Laurence deeply. 

She felt sure that Roch was not lying, and she said to 


OR WHO IS THE HEIR? 


227 


herself that the mad love with which she had inspired 
this Bohemian had been the indirect cause of a lament- 
able catastrophe. 

“ His nephew!” she faltered. “Do you know him?” 

“ I see him come to the chateau almost every day, and 
it is said everywhere that he wishes to marry you. The 
Vignemals never went to your house. I imagined that 
their visit had no other purpose than to ask your mother 
to give you to that du Pommeval. I would have killed 
him rather than allowed him to become your husband. 
I let the Vignemals enter the dangerous boat. It was a 
crime, I know.” 

“ A crime which the law does not touch, but which 
your conscience will forever reproach you with.” 

“ I repented at once, and jumped into the Beuvron.” 

w Then it is really true that you tried to save them?” 
asked Laurence with emotion. 

“ Your uncle himself does not doubt that. He saw 
me all dripping with water, shivering with cold, worn 
out with struggling twenty minutes against a current 
which nothing could resist. At the moment when the 
rope broke and I saw their domestic abandon them like 
a coward, I no longer hesitated. I forgot the persecu- 
tion of their gamekeepers, the plans of their nephew, and 
I only thought of bearing help to two human beings 
who were about to perish. I should have dragged them 
to land if the boat had not upset. You know how that 
happened. M. Daudierne and Dr. Subligny must have 
related to you what I told them, upon the bank, where 
we are now, and I told them only the truth.” 

“ Not the whole truth, though, for you have just told 
me that Madame Vignemal was living when you saw 
her, and you allowed them to believe that she was dead.” 

“ Y ou have guessed why. I feared that I should be 


228 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


accused of acting badly — and indeed I did act badly, for 
I yielded once again to an evil feeling.” 

“ I am afraid to understand you,” murmured Lau- 
rence, terrified at this new avowal. “ The poor woman 
was still breathing, when she was cast up on the bank, 
and instead of dragging her out, you pushed her — ” 

“Back into the river? Ah! if 1 had done that, I 
should be a murderer. But I did not do that; I touched 
Madame Vignemal only to rescue her. I disengaged 
her limbs which were caught in the roots of a willow, 
the one you see there below us; I laid her upon the bank, 
knelt down beside her, put my hand upon her heart and 
felt it beating. Her right hand held in her clenched 
fingers an object which she clasped very tightly. I tried 
to open her hand. I could not. I called; no one came. 
I did not know what it was necessary to do to resusci- 
tate her. I thought for a moment of carrying her in my 
arms, but my strength was gone, she was very heavy, 
and I could not lift her. On the other hand, I did not 
wish to remain near her; I was afraid. It seemed to me 
that she was about to rise and curse me, and I was 
tempted to throw her back into the water. I decided to 
leave her, and run to the chateau for help.” 

“ And when you returned here, the body had disap- 
peared. The current bore it away.” 

“ The current could not have done so. I had left the 
poor woman four or five feet from the shore. When I 
saw that she was no longer there, I was astounded, and not 
knowing what to answer the gentlemen who pressed me 
with questions, I told them that I had only half drawn 
her out of the water, that she had remained caught by 
the feet, and that the roots which held her had given 
way. It was not till the next day that I comprehended 
what had happened during my absence.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


229 


“ The next day? ” replied Laurence. “ All that you 
tell me is so astonishing that I can scarcely believe it.” 

“ I swear to you that it is all true. When I left La 
Germoniere, I returned to the bank ; I passed the rest of 
the night there, and at daybreak I carefully examined 
r the place where Madame Vignemal was cast up. The 
traces which the body had left upon the ground were 
clearly visible, and I had no difficulty in perceiving that 
Madame Vignemal had regained her consciousness; that 
she had dragged herself on her knees to the top of the 
bank, where she had attempted to^stand upright. Her 
feet slipped, and to support herself, she seized a tamar- 
ind branch which broke in her hand, and she fell back- 
ward. The bank is very steep. She rolled into the 
water, and this time all was over. She was drowned.” 

“ You speak as if you saw it all. But these are only 
suppositions, since you were not present.” 

“ I know all as well as if I had been. Her two feet 
marked the ground deeply as she slid down the bank. 
The branch had been very recently broken.” 

“ And you did not seek my uncle to tell him of these 
discoveries ! ” 

“ I did not know that they would interest you.” 

“ They prove nothing, however; especially now that 
the marks are effaced.” 

“ Y ou wish to be certain that everything took place as 
I have related it to you ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Would you believe me if I should show you an ob- 
ject, which Madame Vignemal held clasped in her hand 
when the boat upset, and which I found under the tam- 
arinds, fifteen feet from the shore of the river? ” 

“ An object? ” 

“ Yes, a small leather bag, locked, like a pocket book. 


230 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


She carried it in her bosom, and when she perceived her 
danger, she opened her dress to take it out. She did not 
let it go, when she was thrown into the river. But she 
dropped it, trying to seize the tamarind branches on the 
top of the bank. It was there that I found it, and it 
could not have come there by itself. Madame Vigne- 
mal managed to drag herself therefore to that point, and 
she would be living still, if, unfortunately, she had not 
lost her footing.” 

“ And — have you kept this bag ? ” 

“ Yes, but I have not opened it, and if I am accused 
of having stolen it, I shall be able to show that it is ex- 
actly as I found it.” 

“ Then, you carry it with you? ” 

“No, I have hidden it in a place where no one can 
find it. But, if you wish it, you shall have it to-mor- 
row.” 

Mademoiselle Daudierne was not prepared to answer 
this offer until after reflection. 

Was Roch Ferrer’s story true? She believed it was, 
and she concluded from it that Madame Vignemal very 
probably survived her husband, who perished twenty 
minutes or half an hour after the accident There must 
have been more time than that between the disaster and 
her falling from the bank into the water. But what- 
ever was the truth o‘f the matter, Roch’s declaration be- 
fore the courts would certainly have some weight. 

He ought to be forced to make his statement before 
the magistrates, and this was what Laurence thought of, 
but it was repugnant to her to mix herself up further in 
the matter. 

“ No,” she said, after quite a long silence. “ I do not 
wish to have what you found. It is enough for me to 
be sure that you can prove what you say.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


231 


“ I will prove it to whomever you like. What must 
I do?” 

u The truth must be known, that Madame Vignemal 
was not dead when you left her. This must be known 
at La Germoni£re, at Fougeray, at Arcy, and you alone 
can tell the truth, since you alone were there. If I 
should affirm it, I should not be believed.” 

“ No,” murmured Roch Ferrer, sadly, “ for you could 
not say that you came here to question me. I will speak 
then. To whom do you command me to relate my 
story? To your uncle? To Dr. Subligny? ” 

“ To the president of the tribunal, who will decide as 
to the disposition of the Vignemals’ property.” 

“ It is the sacrifice of my liberty you ask of me, of my 
life perhaps.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

u I mean that the president of the tribunal will deliver 
me to the public prosecutor, and the public prosecutor 
will send me to prison. He suspects me already ; I saw 
that when he questioned me. After having heard me, 
he will no longer doubt. He will accuse me of having 
drowned Madame Vignemal; every one will accuse me, 
for all the appearances will be against me. I can prove 
that Madame Vignemal was still living when I found 
her; that she had the strength to ascend the bank; I can 
show the bag she dropped and I found, but I can never 
prove that I did not wrest it from her, and then throw 
her into the river.” 

“ If you had murdered her, you would be silent; you 
would not go to tell the prosecutor facts of which he is 
ignorant, and you would not bring to him intact Madame 
Vignemal’s pocketbook.” 

“ They will say that I should have done all that in the 
first place, and they will not believe a word of my story. 


232 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


Does any one believe a poacher? A gamekeeper has 
only to swear out a warrant against him to have him 
condemned. And this time I shall acknowledge that I 
could have prevented the accident. They will use my 
confession against me, but my explanations will go for 
nothing. No judge will be found to acquit me. And 
when I am declared guilty, nothing will remain for me 
except to die. But I have sworn to obey you, whatever 
you might order; to-morrow morning I shall deliver my- 
self up.” 

Laurence had not foreseen that Roch Ferrer’s state- 
ment to the magistrates would have such grave conse- 
quences. And since a just resentment had impelled her 
to undertake a hazardous enterprise, she had only en- 
countered difficulties which she had not perceived at the 
moment she had resolved to be revenged upon Arthur 
du Pomm^val. 

She held this vengeance in her hands, for the poacher’s 
statement would certainly make the question of inherit- 
ance doubtful. But it was also very clear that Roch 
would run great risk of being imprisoned, tried and 
finally condemned if he should put himself in the power 
of a magistrate already prejudiced against him. 

And Roch was quite capable of killing himself if he 
should be sentenced to years or even months of impris- 
onment. Birds who live in the woods can not live in 
cages. 

Mademoiselle Daudierne, decidedly, did not desire the 
poacher’s death, and she would bitterly reproach herself 
if he became for her sake the victim of a judicial error. 
She could not prevent herself from feeling a certain 
sympathy for the man, who thus obeyed her, without a 
complaint, without hesitation, without asking the pur- 
pose of the sacrifice or how she would reward him for it. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


233 


She would a thousand times prefer to have du Pomm- 
eval inherit. 

Laurence understood, besides, that it was time for her 
to pause. She had reached the extreme limit of impru- 
dence which a young girl can commit without contract- 
ing dangerous obligations. She even regretted having 
gone so far. 

“ No, no,” she said quickly. “ I do not wish you to 
expose yourself to the severity of a judge, who is ill-dis- 
posed toward you. When I asked you to go to the pres- 
ident and explain to him how Madame Vignemal died, 
I did not dream that it might cost you so dear to confess 
the truth. You have enlightened me. I think now like 
yourself that a new statement from you would render 
you liable to suspicion, and that you would not be be- 
lieved. It is therefore entirely useless for you to go be- 
fore the magistrate and make your statement. You have 
told me the truth, and I shall not betray you. Things 
will remain as they are and you will not be disturbed. 
That is what I desire before all.” 

“ Then you do not despise me, now that you know 
what I have done? ” 

“ I pity you, and I would like to be able to make you 
understand your mistake in leading the life you do. If 
you had lived respectably, no one would dream of ac- 
cusing you of a crime, and you would have been able, 
without any risk, to render me the service I asked of 
you.” 

“ What matters the danger which I run? It was not to 
gain credit for braving it, that I pointed it out to you. 
But when I am in the hands of the magistrates, they 
will not let me go, and I shall not see you again. I 
wanted to tell you once more that I shall consider my- 
self only too fortunate to die to serve you, and that my 


234 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


last thoughts will be of you. I tell it to you now, and I 
promise you that to-morrow your wishes shall be ful- 
filled.” 

“ Whatever they may be ? ” 

“ Whatever they may be. To-morrow I will go to 
Arcy, and it is probable that I shall remain there.” 

“ Y ou shall not go to Arcy, but if you really wish to 
obey me, you will quit the country.” 

“ You drive me away? ” 

“ No, I save you. If you remain here, you will end 
badly, and you will no longer exist for me. I have had 
the courage to come here, to trust myself to you, and I 
do not repent having done so. But what I have done 
once, I can not do again, if you do not change your con- 
duct; and it depends on yourself whether you see me 
again or not. I will never again speak to a poacher. I 
will speak to a soldier.” 

“ You wish me to sell myself? ” 

“ There is no such thing as selling yourself. I wish 
you to enlist — in an African regiment. I wish you to 
redeem your past by serving F ranee. I wish you to 
fight bravely and become some day an officer. Then, 
you will not be forced to hide in the bushes and watch 
our house. You will enter La Germoniere, and we shall 
all be proud to receive you there, as we receive now a 
gentleman, who was not, I believe, richer than you, when 
he became a soldier.” 

“ The young man who is staying at the Chateau de 
Bretteville.” 

“ Yes. How did you know him? ” 

“ I saw him to-day on the road near the river; he 
came out of your garden, and he spoke to me.” 

w That is singular. What did he say to you?” 

u He said to me exactly what you have said, that I was 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


235 


wrong to be a poacher, and that I should do well to en- 
ter his squadron. He even added that if I would come 
to him at Bretteville, he would send me out to where 
they are fighting.” 

“ What did you answer him ? ” 

“ That I was too fond of my liberty to follow his ad- 
vice.” 

“ But you will follow mine. I rely upon it. Besides, 
it is not advice, it is a command. And you have prom- 
ised to obey me.” 

“ I shall obey.” 

“ Without delay. To-morrow you will go to the 
chateau, and ask M. Pontac to do what he has promised. 
I scarcely know him, but I have a good opinion of him. 
Moreover, he is going to return to his regiment soon ; he 
will take charge of you and protect you. In a few years 
you will return a sub-lieutenant, as he has done, he, who 
departed without thought of returning.” 

“No, I shall not return. It would be too painful for 
me to see you again — married.” 

“ I shall never marry,” said Mademoiselle Daudierne, 
abruptly. 

“ I thought you were going to marry M. du Pomm- 
eval,” murmured Roch. 

“ What made you think that? ” 

“ Because he comes every day to La Germoniere; be- 
cause he has rank ; because he is handsome ; because he 
is rich.” 

“ He is not rich yet. But he will be so. The Vig- 
nemals’ money will certainly go to him now.” 

w Was there any danger of his losing it? ” 

w He was asked to prove that M. Vignemal survived 
his wife; and that was not easy.” 

w No, for the contrary is true.” 


236 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ I don’t know. There is a witness, who saw M. Vi g- 
nemal clinging to the boat, which was broken against 
the piles of the Pont-aux-Mouettes, twenty minutes after 
the accident.” 

“ And I saw Madame Vignemal living half an hour 
after it, and a quarter of an hour more must have passed 
before she fell into the river again.” 

“ It is possible, but you can not declare this without 
compromising yourself, and I do not wish you to do that. 
The cousins of our unfortunate neighbors will lose a 
handsome fortune, but at least you will not be accused.” 

“ And that man will inherit ? ” 

“ Without doubt, since his right to do so will not be 
contested.” 

“ And if I should speak, there would be a lawsuit be- 
tween him and the other heirs? ” 

“ A lawsuit which he would probably lose ; and it 
would be justice.” 

“ Then you would like him to lose it? ” 

“ I would prefer not to answer you, but I am willing 
to tell you frankly that I am much less interested in M. 
du Pommeval than in his adversaries, who are poor peas- 
ants.” 

“ And who are better than he. They would not use 
their cousin’s money to force themselves everywhere.” 

“ I do not know what use M. du Pommeval will make 
of his uncle’s fortune. He probably thinks of marrying 
and he knows that his money will be a powerful aid to 
him. All mothers would be willing to have him for a 
son-in-law.” 

“ And all daughters would accept him for a husband,” 
said Roch between his teeth. 

“ Perhaps, if they were forced to do so; but don’t let 
us talk any more of M. du Pommeval. I want to im- 


OR , WI10 IS THE HEIR f 


237 


press on you your promise. I rely on your seeing M. 
P ontac to-morrow, and I shall know if you have seen 
him, for the day after to-morrow we are going to a hunt 
in the forest of La Breteche.” 

“ With him alone! ” 

“ My mother, my uncle and my sister will be there. 
And also my brother. Why do you ask ? ” 

“ To know if M. du Pommeval was going.” 

“ He is invited. And he has accepted. What differ- 
ence does it make to you? ” 

“ Oh, nothing. I only thought that if I should go to- 
morrow and relate to the magistrates of Arcy what took 
place on the bank of the Beuvron, this fine gentleman 
would have no heart for pleasure, and perhaps he would 
marry no one.” 

“ That is very likely, for they say that he is ruined. 
But you would pay much too dear for that satisfaction, 
and I do not attach any importance to it.” 

“ Why then did you command me just now to declare 
to the president what I know, all that I did not dare to 
confess, even to Dr. Subligny, who only wishes me 
well.” 

“ I yielded to the fancy of putting you to the proof ; I 
thought that you had not told all, and I felt a certain 
sympathy with Madame Vignemal’s relations. You 
have made me see that you could not intervene in this 
case without seriously compromising yourself. That 
was enough for me to renounce my idea. I do not re- 
gret having had it, since I have obtained from you a 
promise which I know, you will keep. You will be a 
soldier and M. du Pommeval will become the richest 
land owner in the province. Do not envy his lot. Your 
future is better than his.” 

Roch started, and did not answer. He preferred to 


238 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


be silent rather than to solemnly renew a promise which 
he no longer wished to keep, now that he knew the fate 
of the presumptive heir of the Vignemals depended upon 
him. 

“ And now,” continued Mademoiselle Daudierne, “ I 
must return to the house. F orget that we have met, if 
you wish to see me again. I- shall remember. And 
whatever happens to us, I shall remain — your friend.” 

At this last word, over which she hesitated a little, she 
stretched out to Roch her hand, which he kissed as res- 
pectfully as the elegant Arthur could have done in the 
salon of La Germoniere. 

Roch did not speak a word. He made no attempt to 
follow her. He let her depart, without even caressing 
Belt. 

“ I intended to do a bad action, and I have done a good 
one,” thought Laurence. “ M. du Pommeval will inherit, 
and Roch Ferrer will enter the right track. No one 
but I will be unhappy.” 

She would have thought differently, if she could have 
read the heart of the poacher, whom she thought she 
had converted to good. 

“ My guess was right,” he murmured. “ Her mother 
wishes to force her to marry that man, because h*e will 
have the Vignemals’ lands and money. She hates him, 
but she has made up her mind to yield rather than let 
me run the chance of being condemned by those judges 
who detested me. Well! I will deliver her from M. 
du Pommeval. I will go to prison, to the galleys, to the 
scaffold, if they send me there; what difference does it 
make? Mademoiselle Daudierne would not have Roch 
Ferrer, even if Roch Ferrer should gain an officer’s ep- 
aulettes. She will never be mine, but she will not be 
the wife of the other, because he shall not inherit.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


The Minimes garden is one of the two promenades of 
Arcy and the least frequented of the two. It was form- 
erly the garden of a convent, the buildings of which were 
transformed after the Revolution into a court house. The 
ground is damp and the avenues are gloomy. It lacks 
air and sun. Mothers do not take their children there, 
and scarcely any one enters it except people who have 
business at the courts. 

The day after his interview with Mademoiselle Daud- 
ierne, Roch F errer crossed it, about noon, took an avenue 
which led up to the sub-prefecture which adjoined the 
court house and overlooked the promenade, where the 
inhabitants of Arcy never walk. 

When he arrived at the top, he stopped to collect his 
thoughts, before giving himself up, and perhaps also to 
look for a last time upon the wooded and undulating 
country, where he had lived so many years in freedom. 
The top of this platform commanded an extensive view, 
of which the woods of La Germoniere and the rocky 
hills wherein the Beuvron took its source formed the 
horizon. Roch never expected to see them again, for he 
was not deceived as to the consequences of the attempt 
he was about to make, in order to vanquish a detested 
rival. He had thought of nothing else the whole night. 
He had tried to persuade himself that it would be better 
for him to follow Mademoiselle Daudierne’s advice than 
to sacrifice his freedom for the sake of vengeance. But 
then came the question of submitting to this marriage of 
young du Pommeval, and his resolution was taken: 

239 


240 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“No! I would kill him first, at the very door of the 
church, and kill myself afterwards. If I could only 
prevent his inheriting that money, he could not marry 
her. I will go to prison, but she shall know what I 
have done — that I was vowed to free her from this man 
they wanted to force upon her.” He repeated this reso- 
lution more than once as he stood with his elbow resting 
upon the railing that surrounded the place. But all of a 
sudden a hand clapped him on the shoulder, and a well- 
known voice cried in his ear: 

“ What the devil are you doing here, lad ? ” 

Roch turned quickly: “ The Major! ” he exclaimed. 

“ Well, yes, it is I sure enough,” said Dr. Subligny 
with a kind smile. “ You seem surprised to see me; and 
I can say the same at finding you up here, three hundred 
feet above the valley of the Beuvron.” 

“ I did not hope for the pleasure of meeting you here. 
I went to your house and they said you had come back 
from Paris, but had gone out. I wanted to wait for 
you.” 

“ But Jeannette put you out of doors. She fancies 
that she does not like your looks. F or all that, she used 
to give a drink to certain parties in Africa who were far 
worse looking than you are. But what can you expect at 
her age, and with her fixed notions ? Besides, it is all right 
now that you have met me, though it is only by chance. I 
have been to see M. Lestrigon, who lives quite near here, 
and as the weather was so fine, I took the longest way 
home. But you must have wanted to see me badly, to 
come from your haunts into town. Have you broken 
any more bones? ” 

“ No, Major,” said the poacher, who always gave the 
doctor his regimental title; a habit, by the way, which 
was not displeasing to the ex-surgeon. 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


241 


44 What chance brings you here then ? ” he asked. 
44 Have you been getting into trouble down below ? 
Some poaching scrape, eh? I would not be a bit sorry 
to hear it ; perhaps it might teach you to change your 
life.” 

44 No, Major, it is not that; the keepers do not trouble 
me ; and besides, I have not set a snare or a night line 
these eight days.” 

44 Hah! is that so? If you are turning over anew 
leaf, it is a very good thing. But how do you pass your 
time? You are no man to work as farm-hand.” 

44 1 don’t know how.” 

44 You deliver that information very coolly. There is 
such a thing as learning, I fancy. At the same time, I 
confess I do not think you would make a first-class 
laborer. So you meditate night and day in your hole, 
like a hare on her form, and I find you in deep con- 
templation upon the Arcy esplanade? Are you in 
love?” 

44 In love? ” repeated Roch with a blush which crim- 
soned his ears. 

44 Why not? it is the natural thing at your age.” 

44 Where is the woman who would have me ? ” 

44 Plenty of them; you are altogether too modest. If 
you would make up your mind to enter the service of 
some farmer, no matter whom, his daughter would 
marry you if only for your good looks.” 

44 1 do not want to be married.” 

44 Oh! You have plenty of time for that. But I ad- 
vise you not to delay in getting on the right track. 
Do you realize how this fine life of yours has comprom- 
ised you? Every one suspects you of having had some 
evil connection with the drowning of the Vignemals. 
No matter how often I repeat that you risked your life 

16 


242 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


to save them, no one will believe me. Why, even M. 
Dauclierne, who had an excellent opinion of you on the 
night of the accident, has his strong suspicions now.” 

“ Has he told you so ? ” 

“ He has not had the least compunction about it, and 
one of these days you will find yourself taken in custody 
by the Duke de Bretteville’s people. You have been 
pointed out to them as a suspicious character whom it 
would be as well to watch. In town, it is even worse; 
there are very serious rumors afloat about you, and the 
new government prosecutor is on the continual lockout 
for criminals. He would not like any thing better than 
to saddle the death of the Vignemals on your back. He 
has already tried to make a case against you, in direct 
opposition to me. I was present at the inquest, and I 
must say that your answers did not commit you in any 
way; but he does not think you cleared yourself, and if 
some anonymous accusation were made he would begin a 
criminal process against you. He is a man I want nothing 
to do with; I just met him at the Court, and he reminded 
me of a tiger-cat.” 

M Is he at his office now ? ” 

“ I suppose so. He was going in just as I passed. But 
I would like to know how it concerns you whether he is 
there or not.” 

“ I would like to speak to him.” 

“ W ell ! that is a piece of news, I must say ; he has 
not summoned you, has he? ” 

“No, I came to Arcy of my own accord.” 

“ And purposely to see a man who is 4 down on you ! ’ 
You must be crazy.” 

“ No, Major, I know very well what I am doing. 
Only I wanted to see you first, and that is why I went 
to your house.” 


OR, WI10 IS THE HEIR? 


243 


“ Very well, here I am, which amounts to the same 
thing ; what have you to say ? ” 

“ I lied to you.” 

“ Lied ! about what ? ” 

“ About what happened at the river.” 

“ What, you scoundrel, have you been deceiving M. 
Daudierne and myself? Did you murder the Vignem- 
als ? ” 

“No; but I might have saved them and did not do so. 
The ferry cord was rotten ; I knew about it, and did not 
tell them.” 

“ Oh ! is that all ?” breathed the doctor, with a sigh of 
relief. “ It is bad enough, but no hanging matter — if 
you will only keep your mouth shut. No one can accuse 
you of the crime, because no one can possibly know this.” 

“ I am going to confess it to the prosecuting officer.” 

“You must be mad indeed. Do you want to go 
before the criminal court? You will not be sent 
there for failing to warn those poor people, but they 
will regard your confession as only half made; and will 
rack you with cross-questions, and turn your testimony 
inside out until they betray you into some compromising 
admission. If you have nothing more serious to re- 
proach yourself with, take my advice and hold your 
tongue.” 

“ There is one thing more.” 

“What is it? Speak; you make my flesh creep with 
your half disclosures.” 

“ I have to reproach myself for leaving Madame Vig- 
nemal at the bottom of the steep bank.” 

“No doubt it would have been better to drag the body 
out of danger — for the current must have swept it away 
from where you left it — but that was only negligence, 
and you only went away to call for aid. Besides, the 


24 1 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


poor woman gave no sign of life, and you thought she 
was dead.” 

“ No, Major; on the contrary, I knew she was alive; 
her heart was still beating.” 

“ You never told me that! ” 

“ I did not dare to. If you had been the only person 
there when I came back to the river, and found she was 
gone, I should have told you the truth; but I dared not 
speak before M. Daudierne.” 

“ I did not think you so timid. Y ou are very rfiuch 
to blame. Such carelessness is very wrong when human 
life is at stake. It is almost as if you had killed Madame 
Vignemal, for I might most probably have been able to 
save her, if you had taken that most simple of precau- 
tions. I thought you had more common sense.” 

“ I hardly knew what I was doing.” 

w What I blame most is your want of frankness. I 
hate and detest lying. You are repentant since you con- 
fess your wrong; but it comes rather late and your con- 
fession can work no reparation. I trust you will not re- 
peat all this to the government prosecutor.” 

“ Pardon me, Major, but I came to Arcy for that pur- 
pose.” 

“ But your confession either means nothing or it means 
too much. No prejudiced magistrate like the public 
prosecutor is going to admit that this new story is the 
whole truth. You deceived him before when you were 
examined at Fougeray; he will think you are deceiving 
him again, and will treat you accordingly.” 

“ I am well aware of that.” 

“ Are you positively determined, then, to try a taste of 
jail? What sort of a whim is this? What is its object? 
You can’t make me believe you are going to surrender 
yourself for the mere pleasure of being locked up.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


245 


“ I have nothing to conceal now, Major. My object 
is to prevent Madame Vignemal’s cousins from losing 
their inheritance.” 

“The devil! I hardly expected that answer. You 
are interested in a contested estate — wonderful! But 
f what can you do in the matter, I beg of you ? ” 

“ I can do a great deal. I can prove that the lady out- 
lived her husband.” 

“ The devil! So you have been studying law. I shall 
expect to hear you quoting from the Code next. Did 
you acquire your legal information in the woods or at the 
river ?” 

“ I can’t say ; but I have learned that the suit depends 
upon one thing only.” 

“ Some one must have told you that, for you could 
never have guessed it alone. . Who taught you so 
much ?” 

“ Some of the country-people,” said Roch, visibly em- 
barrassed. 

“ Tell me their names.” 

“ I don’t know them by name.” 

“ Worse and worse. To do a favor to a parcel of fel- 
lows whom you have met accidentally, you are going to 
run the chance of losing your liberty. I will forewarn 
you out of charity, that this beautiful devotion will be 
totally useless. You do not know that M. Vignemal 
was still living when the boat to which he was cling- 
ing was wrecked at the bridge, twenty minutes after the 
first accident?” 

“ And ten minutes before his wife rolled from the top 
of the embankment into the river.” 

“What’s that? from the top? Did you let her roll 
down ? ” 

“ She recovered consciousness, while I was away look- 


246 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


ing for assistance; she must have crawled to the edge, 
and then — ” 

“ Well, I am really astonished! I believe you are tell- 
ing the truth, but I cannot see why you have concealed 
it so long.” 

“ Because I was ashamed that my negligence had 
caused the death of a person, whom I tried to save, al- 
though I did not like her.” 

“ Y ou are not giving me the true reason. I will wager 
you wish to find out what your testimony will be worth 
in case of a lawsuit between the heirs.” 

“ I found that out — yesterday.” 

U just so! And immediately you are seized with a new 
zeal, you run to tell the judges, and can’t think of any- 
thing better than to throw yourself at the feet of the 
police magistrate whose duty consists in arresting people 
on suspicion.” 

“ I would rather submit to my fate than to see an in- 
justice committed.” 

“ That is a noble sentiment, but one which may cost 
you dear. Are you really so much interested in Madame 
Vignemal’s relatives?” 

u They are quite poor.” 

“ They are less so than you, who only own the clothes 
on your back. And there is one of them who is in a 
very good position, for he has gained the rank of an 
officer — one Roger Pontac.” 

“ The one who lives at the Chateau de Bretteville?” 

“ So you know him, it seems. Did he give you this 
advice ? ” 

“No, Major, I met him last evening for the first time. 
He spoke to me on the road, but did not say he was one 
of the heirs. He merely said he was your friend, and — ” 

u Good! I knew Roger was incapable of promoting 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


247 


his interests by prompting you to a dangerous course. 
But I understand less and less. For whom are you sac- 
rificing yourself ? ” 

“ For no one, Major. But there is somebody else — 
M. Vignemal’s nephew.” 

“Arthur du Pommeval? Well, what of him? Are 
you afraid that when he comes into possession of F ou- 
geray and the other property, that he will open war on 
you and put his servants on your track ? ” 

“ I laugh him and them to scorn. But he is going to 
marry one of the young ladies at La Germoniere.” 

“Well, what then? He is to marry the younger, 
-Germaine; but how does that concern you? ” 

“Germaine!” cried Roch. “Did you say Germaine?” 

“ Of course I did,” said the doctor, “ and I think it 
would become you to sa y Mademoiselle Germaine.” 

“ The younger lady ? ” 

“ Y es, the younger. And I will repeat my question. 
How does it concern you whether or no Madame Daud- 
ierne chooses to marry her daughters — or either one of 
them?” 

“In no way, Major; I am very glad of it.” 

“No one would say so. You look completely upset.” 

“ I assure you, Major, it is with joy.” 

“ With joy! and because M. du Pommeval is about to 
enter the Daudierne family. That is a little too strong. 
Just now you didn’t want him to inherit his aunt’s fortune.” 

“ I am perfectly willing for him to have it now.” 

“ And why now ? ” 

“ Because — I did not know then what I know now. 
You would not deceive me?” 

“Deceive you! what do you mean?” 

“ Is it really Mademoiselle Germaine whom the gen- 
tleman is going to marry ? ” 


248 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Why, yes, and to prove it to you I will tell you that 
I went myself in person to ask in his name for her hand.” 

“ And did she accept him ? ” 

“ Almost. He has permission to visit at La Germon- 
iere every day. He is very much in love with her, and 
has everything to make her happy. The marriage will 
be determined upon before Madame Daudierne goes 
back to Paris.” 

“If I were only sure of it,” said Roch to himself; and 
sinking his head, he gave himself up to thoughts, of 
which Dr. Subligny already began to suspect the import. 
They were quite alone on this eminence, which com- 
manded the surrounding country. The people of Arcy 
were completely blas£ in regard to the neighboring 
scenery which had such attractions for tourists, and in 
winter time preferred pacing the Rue Nationale to ex- 
posing themselves to the west wind for the sake of the 
landscape. 

“ Roch,” said the doctor gently, after a pause, “ you 
have promised to tell me everything, but you are still 
hiding something.” 

“ Hiding — doctor,” stammered the Bohemian. “ I 
swear that — ” 

“ Do not swear — you will only perjure yourself. Con- 
fess at once that you have conceived an absurd passion 
for the elder Mademoiselle Daudierne.” 

Roch did not speak, but his blushes were eloquent 
enough. 

“ This was why you were watching her so intently the 
other evening, in the kitchen of the chateau. I noticed 
it, but I had no idea you were such an idiot as to fall in 
love with a young lady, who would no more think of 
you than of her gardener.” 

“ I know she cannot be mine,” said Roch, sadly. 


OR, WIIO IS THE HEIR? 


241 ) 


“And yet you love her all the same. You will say that 
it is not your fault, but I shall not discuss that point. 
These things happen every day, but it plays the deuce 
with a young man to fall in love with a woman above 
him in station. For you to love Mademoiselle Daudierne 
is about as sensible as for you to fall in love with the 
Emperor of China’s daughter. It is a case of mental 
weakness, and I am going to cure you of it. Tell me 
first when and how it came about.” 

“ When? — the first time I saw her, a long time ago. 
She was walking on the river embankment, and I was 
hiding behind some bushes. How? — I can only say that 
I felt then what I have never outlived to this very mo- 
ment.” 

“Bosh! You are worse than I thought you were. 
What did you do, when you received this stroke of light- 
ning?” asked the doctor in a mocking manner. 

“ I have followed her — without showing myself — 
wherever she went, I went.” 

“ Have you ever spoken to her? ” 

“ Never.” 

Roch had hesitated barely a second before giving his 
last answer, but the doctor noticed it and his brow 
darkened a little. He was just enough of a sceptic not 
to have a blind faith in the prudence of even the best 
bred young ladies, and he wondered whether this hand- 
some savage was speaking sincerely or only with the 
discretion of a man of the world. 

“ I am quite ready to believe you,” he said, “ and 

praise you very highly for having been so self-controlled. 
At the same time it is no less true that you are playing a 
dangerous game, not only for yourself, but for the girl 
who has turned your head. You must know that she 
cannot marry you ? ” 


250 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


Roch assented with a nod of his head. 

“ And you can hardly flatter yourself that she would 
consent to become your mistress ? ” 

Roch protested with a gesture of indignation. 

“ W ell, then your clandestine pursuit, tracking and 
lying-in-wait cannot fail to compromise her, and you 
must put a stop to them. Now that you have confessed 
that your ridiculous passion can only end in destroying 
the little sense you have left, will you tell me what you 
had to gain in preventing M.du Pommeval’s marriage?” 

“ I no longer wish to prevent it, as I have already said.” 

“ That is because Mademoiselle Germaine happens to 
be his choice; but as long as you thought he wished to 
marry Mademoiselle Laurence, you were ready to accuse 
yourself of a number of horrible things that you never 
did ; you were going to hand yourself over to the law as 
a criminal overcome by remorse, and all to ruin a gentle- 
man who has never 'done you any harm.” 

“Yes, I would rather die than suffer.” 

“You would only have succeeded in getting into 
prison, for in spite of your declarations M. du Pomme- 
val would have won his case, and you would have had 
a very wicked deed on your conscience.” 

“ Is it committing a wicked deed to tell the truth ? ” 

“ Of course not; but you can never make me believe 
that Madame Vignemal revived on the bank and crawled 
to the top of the slope.” 

“It is so far true, that she dropped a pocket-book there 
which she had clasped in her hand. I found it next 
morning, picked it up, and put it in a hiding place where 
it is yet.” 

“The devil! it will put a new face on matters if that 
pocket-book should happen to contain valuables, or a 
will, or even some of Madame Vignemal’s papers. Some 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


251 


very unforeseen circumstances may arise — it may prove 
a very Pandora’s box. But you don’t know anything 
about Pandora’s box; you will understand me better 
when I say you will be accused of stealing it.” 

“ That is quite likely,” said Roch, carelessly. 

“ So I advise you to leave it where you put it,” said 
Dr. Subligny, quickly. u I would not take the respon- 
sibility of keeping it, above all just now. A little later, 
when suspicion against you has died out, we will see 
about it. I would undertake to restore it to its proper 
owner — for perhaps it may contain the very turning 
point of the lawsuit — if there should happen to be a law- 
suit. But in the first place we must think about you. I 
trust you have given up your absurd idea of going be- 
fore the public prosecutor, and telling him a story that 
will only result in giving you a cell in Arcy prison.’ 

“ I have given it up, because you have told me that 
there is no project of marriage between Mademoiselle 
Laurence and that man.” 

“ Again? you are still stubborn! Must I give you my 
word of honor? ” 

“ No, Major; I know you would not deceive me.” 

“ Then, if you have' such confidence in me you will of 
course follow my advice, and all will go well. Listen to 
me, lad. You must leave this place.” 

“ Why ? I have lived here till now, and lived well, 
too.” 

“ Y ou have lived here only because people have toler- 
ated you. They saw you as a child, became accustomed 
to you, and passed over various pranks which would not 
have been forgiven in another. The peasantry are none 
too fond of you, although they do not deitounce you. The 
Vignemals, though they interfered with you sometimes, 
were not your enemies at heart, for they never pushed 


252 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


the charges they brought against you. The prosecuting 
officers have been informed of your misdemeanors, but 
as they know that you do not sell the game and fish 
which you take, they have not interfered. But that 
could not last forever; what is passed over in a young 
lad will not be condoned in a grown man;, still, your 
danger of ending badly was not immediate. But unfor- 
tunately some days ago a change took place. An event 
occurred which drew many people’s attention upon you, 
and the truce was broken. Some one will pick a quar- 
rel with you before long. If you are silent, you will 
have against you Madame Vignemal’s cousins, who sus- 
pect you of being too well posted about that lady’s death. 
If you open your mouth, the officers of the law will be 
after you, and they are not the persons to use any cere- 
mony in treating you like a criminal. It would have 
been done already, if the chief had not taken the notion 
to also incriminate a brave young fellow who is even 
more innocent than you are, and you cannot reckon upon 
a long respite. I met you just in time to stop you on 
your road to prison; but they will be hunting you soon 
in your 'den ; that word is quite applicable to you, since 
you live like a wolf. The conclusion of the matter is 
that you must go away from here.” 

“ Would you like to have me turn soldier?” 

“ Y ou have guessed it exactly.” 

“ The officer at the Chateau de Bretteville gave me 
the same advice.” 

“ I am not surprised. We have spoken of you, and 
he was of my opinion. You were made for the army, 
and it would be a shame for you to miss your calling. 
There is nothing to keep you here any longer, I fancy.” 

“ No, nothing,” said Roch, mournfully. 

“ Good! Try to banish the ideas which trouble your 


OR , WUO IS THE HEIR? 


25l» 


brain. Be a man, and I will answer for your future. 
Pontac will open a career for you; go and see him 
from me.” 

“ He expects me to-day.” 

“ You would have done better to go there than to show 
yourself in town; but what is postponed is not always 
lost. Besides, I want to see Roger myself; I must come 
to an understanding with him about your case, and also 
about another matter, for he will be one of the heirs, if 
du Pomm^val should not inherit. I will write him to 
come to my house, and we will arrange together about 
your enlistment. Come day after to-morrow; every 
thing will be ready for your speedy departure, and 
Jeannette will have orders to receive you. In the mean- 
time, take my advice and lie snug. Try to show your- 
self as little as possible. You must try and make your- 
self forgotten from this time forth. Don’t go to sleep 
to-night on the banks of the Beuvron, change your lair. 
Do not go out by day, and come to my house day after 
to-morrow between eleven and twelve at night. For 
the present, make good time in passing through the town. 
Away with you, and no more nonsense,” concluded the 
doctor, as he honored his protege with a hearty shake 
of the hand. 

Roch had no more thoughts of troubling the peace of 
Laurence Daudierne. He had now no fears of her mar- 
rying M. du Pommeval, and he had fully made up his 
mind to enlist. But he walked away with a heavy heart, 
and was by no means resigned to the thought of taking 
his departure without seeing her just once more. 


CHAPTER VIII . 


F or the quiet inhabitants of La Germonikre, including 
even Uncle Armand and Alfred, a hunt in the ducal for- 
est of La Breteche was an event, and the project formed 
by Roger Pontac was the subjectof deliberations which 
occupied all the next day. 

To consent was nothing. Madame Daudierne held 
certain objections to the plan. Mothers always have 
them when there is a question of permitting their daugh- 
ters to indulge in some amusement a little out of the 
common. She felt some scruples about accepting, from 
a neighbor who had never called upon her, such marked 
politeness; but the rank, age, and above all the recent 
sorrow of the Duke de Bretteville, merited that on this 
occasion she should overlook the usual formalities, the 
Duke besides having made his excuses, when he received 
M. Daudierne at the chateau. And then the proposition 
had been made unexpectedly, and the lady, taken un- 
awares, could find at the moment no good reason for re- 
fusal. 

The engagement once made, there was nothing to do 
but to keep it. But how many details they had totally 
forgotten to arrange! What unforeseen difficulties lay 
in the way of the execution of the plan ! 

The invitation was general, so general that M. du 
Pommeval had not b°:en excepted. Uncle Armand had 
answered yes for all the persons present and his prudent 
sister-in-law had had no time to make any reservations. 

It must be decided in the first place whether she should 
form one of the party. 

- 254 - 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


255 


She did not like to have her day broken up, and the 
various sports which foreigners have introduced into 
F ranee had no attraction for her. She would never have 
dreamed of following a fox-hunt, still less of allowing 
her daughters to do so. Middle class manners and cus- 
toms do not lend themselves easily to such fancies, and 
Madame Daudierne was middle class to the tips of her 
fingers. Lawn tennis, that game so dear to English 
people, seemed to her more fitted to develop the muscles 
of young men than to form the minds and hearts of 
young girls. And perhaps she was not wrong in for- 
bidding at La Germoniere this exercise, which the high- 
est born girls practice with impunity on the other side 
. of the channel, for the young men of Arcy might 
have abused it. Amusements in France are never in- 
nocent amusements. This is due to climate or tempera- 
ment. 

But this time it was impossible to withdraw her given 
word, and Madame Daudierne was placed between two 
alternatives, both disagreeable to her. She must either 
be present at the hunt or let her daughters go without 
her. And the latter arrangement suited her even less 
than the former. Uncle Armand was certainly old 
enough to act as chaperon, but Uncle Armand was also 
a devoted sportsman, quite capable of forgetting his 
nieces while watching for the deer to appear. He knew 
this himself, and to conciliate the proprieties and the ma- 
ternal anxiety of his sister-in-law, he proposed a middle 
course. 

The forest of La Breteche was full of good roads, and 
there was nothing to prevent the family carriage, with 
the top taken off, and drawn by the two quiet mares, 
from entering; it could be stationed at some cross road, 
where the watchful mother, seated upon comfortable 


256 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


cushions, could follow at a distance the hunt and the 
movements of the sportsmen. 

The idea was simple and practical. Madame Daud- 
ierne seized upon it all the more willingly as Laurence 
declared that she wished only to be a spectator like her 
mother. She had never touched a gun and she saw no 
pleasure in massacring poor inoffensive animals. Per- 
haps also she did not wish to come in contact with M. 
du Pommdval, who would take an active part in the 
work of destruction. 

Since her interview with Roch Ferrer, the noble girl 
had seen that it was unworthy of her to seek revenge 
for a treachery, and resolved to show the traitor only in- 
difference and contempt. 

The places were arranged in the carriage which was 
to bear them all to the place of meeting; Madame Dau- 
dierne and her brother-in-law on the back seat, Laurence 
and Germaine in front of them, and Alfred beside the 
coachman. 

They did not trouble themselves about du Pommeval, 
who would go to directly to Arcy in his dog-cart 

Uncle Armand and his nephew knew what they had 
to do, once they should be upon the ground; Uncle Ar- 
mand especially, for Alfred had more ardor than experi- 
ence, too much ardor to be trusted entirely 

M. Daudierne determined to relegate their beginner to 
the end of the line, and so far off that his nearest neighbor 
should be beyond gunshot. He could not be trusted to 
take care of his sister at all. 

So Madame Daudierne had only herself to rely upon 
to prevent Germaine from committing any imprudence. 

After a lively discussion, in which she was alone in her 
opinion, the good lady had ended by yielding to the de- 
sire of her younger daughter, who wished to take an 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


257 


active part in the expedition organized by Roger Pon- 
tac. 

For a long time she had tormented her uncle to take 
her with him when he went hunting. But he had al- 
ways refused; he declared that game was not abundant 
about La Germoniere, and that Germaine could not bear 
the fatigue of long waits in the woods and interminable 
tramps across ploughed lands. He did not refuse, how- 
ever, to teach her how to, shoot. He had even brought 
her from Paris a gun made expressly for her, a charm- 
ing little gun, purchased of a good maker, and not much 
heavier than a child’s toy. 

Uncle Armand was a good teacher; he gave his niece 
lessons on the bank of the Beuvron, which is a river 
much frequented by water-fowl; and in a short time 
the pupil became quite proficient. She could bring 
down a gull on the wing, and kill a teal as it showed its 
head after a plunge. 

As he had encouraged her thus far, Uncle Armand 
felt he could scarcely forbid his niece to be present at the 
battue , which is assuredly the easiest of all hunts, for it 
requires only patience and coolness. It is only necessary 
to wait without moving till the game comes to you, and 
not to shoot the keepers. 

It was arranged that she should taxe her gun and use 
it. She promised solemnly to be as cool as an old game- 
keeper, and never to fire haphazard for the pleasure of 
making a noise; to conform strictly to the rules laid 
down for the battue ; not to leave her place under any 
pretext; in short, to behave more wisely than many old 
sportsmen do. 

The thing now was to settle the question of costume. 

For her shooting on the bank of the river, Germaine 
contented herself with a blouse over her dress, but this 

17 


258 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


was absolutely lacking in style, and a costume must be in- 
vented for a grand occasion like the one in question. 

Madame Daudierne was very much opposed to her 
wearing anything approaching the masculine. 

She artlessly thought that a woman who was foolish 
enough to hunt' could go very well into the woods in a 
walking dress, and her brother-in-law had all the diffi- 
culty in the world to demonstrate to her that long skirts 
and kid boots would soon be torn into shreds by the 
brambles and sharp stones. 

Alfred, who prided himself upon being up in the 
newest fashions, hereupon hunted up a file of the Vie 
Parisienne , and discovered therein a multitude of de- 
signs appropriate to the occasion. 

The costumes represented were each more ravishing 
than the other. 

The only thing was to choose the one best suited to 
his sister’s face and figure. 

The wise youth proposed first a Louis XV habit in 
brocaded velvet, with steel embroidery upon the pock- 
ets and cuffs, enormous malachite buttons, knee breeches 
and vest of plum colored satin, gloves and boots of buck- 
skin, ruffles and cravat of Malines lace, and a three corn- 
ered hat trimmed with pink feathers. 

And as his sisters shook with laughter at this, he se- 
lected a Tyrolese costume, a little less theatrical; a long 
skirted coat, knee breeches, vest of chamois skin, leather 
leggings, heavy shoes, a felt hat trimmed with ribbons 
and ornamented with a hawk’s wing. 

This had no more success than the other. A polon- 
aise trimmed with fur, plush breeches of a myrtle green, 
Wellington boots and a cap strapped under the chin, was 
also unanimously black-balled. 

Madame Daudierne declared them all utterly unsuita- 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


259 


ble, and Uncle Armand took the trouble to demonstrate 
to his nephew that the Vie Parisienne did not pretend 
to regulate the toilette of young ladies modestly brought 
up. 

This was also Germaine’s opinion, and besides, these 
wonderful dresses could not be made in a day. They 
needed time and the work of an experienced modiste. 

Alfred offered to go to Paris and bring back a master- 
piece made in a night by a fashionable dressmaker; but 
this absurd proposition met with no response. 

Germaine suddenly remembered that she had at La 
Germoniere all that was necessary for a decent and con- 
venient hunting dress. 

The year before, the young ladies had brought from 
the sea-shore of Finistere a complete Breton peasant’s 
costume, which seemed to have been made to fit Ger- 
maine. She often put it on to pose for her sister, who 
had undertaken to paint, as a remembrance of their visit, 
a little picture representing a boy kneeling before a way- 
side shrine. All that was needed was to lengthen the 
coat and the embroidered vest, to let out a little the blue 
plush knee-breeches, to close at the knee the canvas leg- 
gins and to replace the wooden shoes by strong boots 
with low heels. 

This would take some hours, and Laurence was very 
glad to do the work; Germaine tried on the dress in 
the evening, and Madame Daudierne was obliged to ac- 
knowledge that her daughter could wear it in broad day- 
light without passing the bounds of eccentricity permitted 
on such an occasion, and without making an exhibition 
of herself. The coat was so long that it came below her 
knees. 

And the costume suited her to perfection. She had 
bound around her beautiful golden hair a scarlet silk 


260 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


handkerchief, and placed upon this headdress, full of 
local color, the broad brimmed Breton hat. She needed 
nothing but an old flintlock and a large knife stuck in 
her belt, to look like a young chouan , and yet she had 
lost nothing of her feminine grace. 

Uncle Armand had no criticism to make, and the 
problem of Germaine’s costume being settled to the gen- 
eral satisfaction, they retired early in order to be up be- 
times in the morning. They were to meet at ten 
o’clock, and it would take at least forty minutes to reach 
the meeting place, without forcing the gray mares. 

The sun rises late in December and every one was up 
before daybreak. Like a wise hostess, Madame Daud- 
ierne.,had given orders to have a substantial breakfast 
prepared, and everybody did justice to it. She even 
thought of carrying under the seat of the carriage some 
light provisions, but her brother-in-law decided that it 
would be better to return after the hunt and dine at La 
Germoniere; the dinner could be two hours later then 
usual, and they could invite M. du Pommeval and M. 
Pontac. 

The programme being thus arranged, they started off. 

Laurence, a trifle pale, had never looked more charm- 
ing. Her great dark eyes had never been more brilliant,, 
and her toilette was in perfect taste. Madame Daud- 
ierne, dignified and calm as usual, wore a mantle trimmed 
with costly fur. She wished to do honor to her daugh- 
ters. M. Armand, who never took any trouble, had 
changed nothing in his customary hunting-dress; a plaid 
suit, shoes and leather leggings and a soft felt hat. But 
his nephew was most stunningly gotten up. With his 
velvet knickerbockers, belt and cartridge box of yellow 
leather, and his pointed hat, he looked like a Calabrian 
brigand. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


261 


The carriage rolled along the highway over which 
Germaine had ridden on a certain memorable evening 
when she was returning after a romantic adventure; they 
had already proceeded some distance when a loud bark- 
ing made the horses prick up their ears. 

“ Belt is following us!” cried Alfred, turning round 
on the seat upon which he was perched. “ What the 
devil has brought him ? He will spoil our hunt.” 

“ Indeed,” said M. Daudierne, “ no one ever heard of 
a Danish hound at a battue. Was this ridiculous idea 
yours, Germaine? If it was, I disown you for my 
niece.” 

“ Not at all ; ” answered Germaine quickly. “ Belt 
slept last night in my room. It was my turn to have 
him. But I knew very well that he is of no use at a 
hunt, and I took care to shut him in before I left my 
room.” 

“ That was what I call a useless precaution. You 
might have known the chambermaid would open the 
door. He must be kept in the kennel, hereafter, and 
tied up there.” 

“No, I won’t have that,” said Laurence. “ Belt is our 
friend and he shan’t be tied up.” 

“ That is all very fine,” cried Alfred, “ but we can’t 
hunt with that beast at our heels. M. Pontac would 
take me for a fool. I have a good mind to put a bullet 
through him.” 

“Don’t you dare to!” cried Germaine. “ I am very 
sorry that he has come, but that is no reason for hurting 
him. I will take him under my protection.” 

“ Nephew,” said Uncle Armand, “ I advise you to get 
down, take him back to La Germoniere, and lock him 
up in the stable. That is much better than killing an 
animal we all love.” 


262 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


“Humph! And I should be obliged to walk two 
leagues to join you. The hunt would be finished when 
I reached there.” 

“ You can saddle Ralph and come at full gallop,” 
said M. Daudierne, who loved to tease Alfred. 

“In this dress!” cried the young man indignantly. 
“Never in the world! I should be ridiculous. Du 
Pomm^val would tell it to all the men in the club, and I 
should have no peace. I prefer to bear the consequence 
of that girl’s negligence. We can find a keeper there 
to muzzle him and tie his feet together.” 

“ I won’t allow that,” said Laurence. “ Belt is not ac- 
customed to such treatment, and I don’t see any reason 
for it. Mother and I will keep him with us.” 

“ Do you think he will stayi ” 

“ Certainly. He does whatever I wish. And when 
I command him not to stir, he obeys me. Don’t you, 
my good old Belt ? ” said Laurence, looking at the dog, 
who had caught up to them and was frisking joyously 
about the carriage. 

“ And he will defend us, if a wolf should attack us,” 
added Madame Daudierne with a smile. 

“ There are no wolves in the forest of La Breteche, 
my dear Reine,” said Uncle Armand, “ but I trust to 
my niece to restrain her favorite, and I hope she will 
succeed.” 

“Oh! yes, of course she will,” sneered his nephew. 
“Well, let her try it, as there is nothing else to be 
done. We must endure his presence. All the worse 
for him, if he runs into the wood, when he scents the 
game, and receives a bullet. That will teach him not to 
interfere in what does not concern him.” 

No one noticed this indirect threat, but Laurence’s face 
flushed. She was glad Belt had come, and she deter- 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


263 


mined to keep careful watch over the safety of the faith- 
ful friend who had accompanied her in a nocturnal ex- 
cursion, all the incidents of which she remembered. 

“ Without him,” she thought, “ I should never have 
had the courage to go and find Roch Ferrer. I should 
not know that there was in the world a man ready to 
sacrifice himself to serve me, and that, if I wished, the 
wretch who has deceived me would lose the fortune, on 
which he counts to dazzle my sister and to wrest from 
her a consent. I do not regret having spared him ; his ruin 
would not have consoled me for the unhappiness of that 
brave Roch, but I am glad to feel that I hold in my 
hands M. du Pommeval’s fate, and perhaps I shall give 
myself the satisfaction of letting him know that he is at 
my mercy.” 

“ This is Queen’s weather,” said Germaine, who could 
not contain her delight. “ It is as mild as spring, and 
the hunt will be magnificent. It seems to me that M. 
Pontac brings us good-luck. We were all as blue as 
possible after the death of our F ougeray neighbors. He 
appears one fine day at La Germoniere, and everything 
puts on a new face. I no longer wish to return to Paris 
till after the new year.” 

“ That hussar is a charming fellow,” said Uncle Ar- 
mand. “ What a pity he is poor.” 

“ That is a misfortune he bears cheerfully enough, and 
in fact I don’t pity him very much. He is fond of the 
service, and he would not change places with the richest 
man in the country. Besides, he will become a general, 
and when he does so, he will not want money.” 

“ Yes ; but meanwhile, he would not be sorry to marry, 
and, upon my word, he is a husband I would like for 
my daughter, if I had one. He only lacks two or three 
hundred thousand francs. Unfortunately, when a man 


264 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


hasn’t a sou, he can only marry a washerwoman or a 
seampstress.” * 

“ Why so? If that were an absolute rule, we should 
only have to match equal fortunes, and leave everything 
to the notaries. The couple would meet for the first 
time at the church.” 

“ You exagerate. I acknowledge that love matches 
may sometimes turn out well. But we may regret that 
a young man who has every other good quality is not 
rich. Luck has given you du Pommeval. But suppose 
that the forest of La Breteche, and the Chateau de Brette- 
ville belonged to Roger Pontac. Would he not be a 
capital match for your sister? See what a domain La 
Germoniere would be. F ougeray on one side, La Bret- 
eche on the other. What hunts, good Heavens! I would 
settle down here forever with your mother, young 
ladies.” 

“ That would be charming, but it is only an air-castle,” 
sighed Germaine. “ Let us be contented with the per- 
mission the Duke de Bretteville has so kindly given 


“Well said, little one. The truth comes sometimes 
out of the mouths of children, and wisdom consists of en- 
joying what we have, without longing for what we have 
not. But it seems to me we must be very near the place. 
I recognize below there, at our right, rocks, which I no- 
ticed the other day, when I went to thank the Duke. 
The forest is not far off.” 

“ That is L^mon Rock which you see, and the meet- 
ing place is at a cross-road, which is just at the foot of 
the fairy castle.” 

“ How are you so well informed? I thought that you 
had, never been here.” 

“ M. Pontac described to me the famous rock day be- 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


265 


fore yesterday. It is impossible to be mistaken. That 
is it rising up like a tower on the summit of the hill.” 

“ It is certainly very peculiar-looking, and I should 
like to see it nearer. But to-day we have something 
better to do than to climb up there.” 

“ Yes, you have and so have I; but if I were in Laur- 
ence’s place, I should undertake the pilgrimage, instead 
of shivering in the carriage.” 

“ I have nothing to ask the fairies,” said Laurence, 
sadly. 

“ Bah ! what would you risk by telling them your 
name? When they have no husband to offer, they do 
not reply. But they are discreet, and they do not abuse 
confidences reposed in them. Try! No one knows 
what may happen.” 

“ I see Arthur du Pommeval’s dog-cart,” cried Alfred. 
“ Arthur has already alighted, and the beaters are in pos- 
ition. They are only waiting for us to commence. That 
is what it is to have two old mares who move like tor- 
toises.” 

“ They won’t run away like Ralph, who nearly broke 
your sister’s neck, and I like them,” said Uncle Armand. 
“ We shall arrive the last. That is no misfortune. It is 
the duty of lovers to arrive first, and du Pommeval has 
not failed in his.” 

“ I see M. Pontac,” said Germaine, who had risen to 
her feet 

“ Of course. He must be there to receive us, as it is 
he who is to do the honors of the Duke’s hunt. I see 
him too. He is talking to a servant in livery.” 

“ That is the chief huntsman,” said Alfred; “ a rough 
old fellow who knows his business. The Duke has four 
huntsmen, two dog-keepers, six horses and a pack #f 
sixty dogs, from La Vendee, admirably trained.” 


266 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Y ou want to impress us with your knowledge, my 
boy, but what you say is not common sense. The Duke 
has a fine hunting-establishment, we know that, but we 
are not to hunt on horseback to-day, and the outfit re- 
mains at the chateau.” 

Uncle Armand was right. The man who was taking 
his orders from Roger Pontac was a simple gamekeeper, 
and the men grouped a little further off were peasants 
collected to beat the woods. 

Madame Daudierne’s carriage soon reached the place 
where four forest roads met. Here, there was a sort of 
Crescent in which ten carriages and fifty guests could 
have been comfortably accommodated. 

In the centre of this cross-road was a little granite 
obelisk, in front of which four servants were arranging a 
table loaded with pates, galantines and other cold dishes. 
Fine wines "and liquors had not been forgotten. Gold 
headed champagne bottles were placed opposite long 
flasks of old brandy like ninepins. 

“ This sub-lieutenant of hussars is a first-class host,” 
cried M. Daudierne, perceiving these preparations. “ He 
has seen to everything. And there, my dear Reine, is a 
great problem solved. You need not put off your din- 
ner hour, since we find everything here to satisfy the 
most exacting appetites.” 

“You had better consult M. du Pommeval about 
that,” exclaimed Germaine as she pointed to the elegant 
Arthur who was putting down his glass, after having 
drained a large bumper of cognac. 

“ He is right to take something to keep up his strength. 
Would you wish him to drink nothing but water? ” 

“ That is the only drink suitable for lovers.” 

• “ F or half-hearted lovers, but you don’t care for those, 
nor Laurence either, I suppose.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


267 


Laurence did not reply, and she turned her head to 
avoid returning the bow of Arthur du Pommeval, who 
was advancing, hat in hand, and with a smile on his 
lips. 

The carriage had stopped; Alfred had already alighted 
from his seat and opened the door. In a moment they 
had all gotten out, and the heir of the Vignemals 
could shake hands with the uncle and nephew, who 
greeted him warmly. Madame Daudierne and Ger- 
maine were more reserved, but they received him gra- 
ciously. Laurence alone was very cold. 

Roger, who had finished giving his orders to the head 
gamekeeper, came up at this moment. 

“We are late, I see,” said M. Daudierne to him after 
the usual formalities had been exchanged. “ Y ou and 
your servants have been on foot, I have no doubt, since 
sunrise, and I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” 

“ It is I who am sorry for having fixed so early an 
hour,” answered Pontac. “ Unfortunately, if you begin 
late at this season of the year, you have scarcely time 
enough to do much shooting, and as the ladies had con- 
sented to be present, I wanted to insure them a com- 
pletely successful hunt.” 

“ We can shoot anything, can’t we? ’’asked Germaine 
gaily, seizing her little gun. 

“ Yes, Mademoiselle. No one has hunted yet this 
year in the forest of La Breteche, and the keepers think 
there are too many does and hen pheasants. You can 
shoot anything you choose. The Duke de Bretteville 
only desires you to spare a certain old stag which his son 
has often chased on horseback, and which he could never 
capture.” 

“ To kill a stag with a gun would be murder,” said 
Uncle Armand*. 


268 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ And especially this one, which is veritably the king of 
the forest,” returned Roger. “ He is easily recognized 
by his horns. They have ten branches.” 

“ I should be sorry to have him wounded,” said Ger- 
maine, “ but I would like very much to see him. I have 
never seen a stag except at the Zoological Gardens, and 
I imagine that a stag at liberty must be superb.” 

“ So is a lion,” growled M. Daudierne. 

“ Are you laughing at me, uncle? If I were in Africa, 
I would certainly go to a lion hunt.” 

“ See here, Pontac,” said Uncle Armand. “ You must 
have killed lions, you who have been fighting in Africa 
for eight or ten years.” 

“ Never, Monsieur,” responded the officer of the hus- 
sars modestly. “ The service took up all my time, and 
I scarcely thought of hunting. But it is well that Mad- 
emoiselle should know that an old stag is almost as dan- 
gerous as a lion.” 

“ You exaggerate a little, I think, lieutenant, but these 
horned animals are certainly not pleasant customers, and 
it is not best to attack them too near. A blow from a 
stag is a death blow is a saying which all foresters know. 
The pointed antlers of a stag terribly tear a man’s 
breast. That is why, Germaine, if you see the animal, 
-I want you to promise to let him alone.” 

“ Oh! said Germaine, “ I haven’t the least desire to do 
him any harm.” 

“ And, besides, it is understood that no one must fire 
at him. Now, my dear Pontac, we await your orders. 
Will you tell us what we must do ? I must inform you 
that my sister-in-law and her elder daughter have plan- 
ned to follow the hunt in their carriage.” 

“ That is very easy. All the roads are excellent. We 
have three places to beat, and we will commence, if you 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


269 


please, at the one furthest off, so as to return here for 
lunch.” 

“ Lunch was a mistake. We breakfasted before leav- 
ing, and we hope that you will come and dine with us at 
La Germoniere.” 

“ I am very much obliged to you, Monsieur, but I 
don’t know if — ” 

“ Never mind. We will discuss that question after the 
hunt. Just now, you have four guns to place, of which 
one is dangerous, my nephew’s, and one harmless, my 
niece’s.” 

“Harmless?” cried Germaine. “You will see pres- 
ently if I miss a single shot within range. I will bet 
you that I kill more than you do.” 

“ Provided your brother kills only game, I shall be 
satisfied.” 

“ Do you take me for a child, then ? ” said Alfred, 
very much vexed. 

“No, but I doubt your skill and your coolness. So 
we will place you between Pontac and myself, who have 
both been under fire, and we will keep an eye on 
you.” 

“ Will you excuse me, Monsieur?” answered Roger. 
“ I must direct the beaters, and I shall go with them.” 

“ Is that the reason you have no gun ? ” 

Pontac, in fact, bore no other weapon than a hunting 
knife stuck in his leather belt. 

“ Y es, I might be tempted to use it, and I shall be of 
more service to you in managing the battue myself. The 
keeper I have brought from Bretteville would not be 
able alone to command the beaters, who have been se- 
lected almost at hap-hazard from the peasants here- 
abouts. But,” he continued, caressing Belt, who, hav- 
ing recognized in him a friend, was rubbing his head 


270 [WAS IT A MURDER ? 

against his hand, “ may I ask how this dog happens to 
be here?” 

“ He came without our permission,” said Germaine, 
“ but he will not trouble us. My sister has promised to 
see to him.” 

Roger bowed, and du Pommeval, who was also as- 
tonished at seeing the dog, did not dare to raise any ob- 
jections to the clearly expressed wishes of the Mesdem- 
oiselles Daudierne. 

The brilliant heir was moreover more silent than usual, 
and he appeared to have lost a little of his ordinary as- 
surance. 

Evidently, something was troubling him; the pres- 
ence of Laurence, perhaps, who a day or two before had 
openly declared war against him, and who had good 
reasons for being hostile to him. 

Perhaps, also, he was beginning to be jealous of Roger 
Pontac. 

To-day, the representative of the gilded youth of Arcy 
had set all sail, so to speak. His dog-cart came from one 
of the best Parisian establishments; his horse had cost 
him two hundred louis; his groom looked as if he had 
just arrived from England in a box; his gun was a choke- 
bore, bought in London, at Purdey’s, the fashionable 
gunsmith; his costume, made by an expensive tailor, 
was in perfect taste. 

In brief, there was nothing lacking to do honor to his 
rank as leader of fashion at Arcy. 

And yet he felt that the simplicity and natural dis- 
tinction of Lieutenant Pontac was more calculated to 
please than all this purchased elegance which dazzled the 
provincials. 

Pontac had come on foot; Pontac was not dressed like 
the figures in a tailor’s fashion plate. Pontac made no 


OR, WHO IS TTIE HEIR? 


271 


pretensions, not even of showing his skill in hunting; but 
from his reserved manners, his almost haughty coldness, 
one might have taken him for a landed gentleman, do- 
ing the honors of his forest to the bourgeois of a small 
city. But under this apparent indifference, it was plain 
to see that he possessed ardent passions and a will of 
iron. One could read in his eyes that he knew how to 
command and that he knew how to love. 

“ It is very lucky that that sub-lieutenant has not a 
sou,” thought the elegant Arthur, to console his self-love, 
wounded by the comparison. 

Moreover, Mademoiselle Germaine Daudierne did not 
appear to take much notice of the officer. She was in a 
state of delight over her gun, and she was waiting impa- 
tiently for the time to use it. 

Laurence had taken her place in the carriage beside 
her mother; she called Belt, who leaped over the door at 
a bound, and lay quietly down at the feet of his young 
mistress. 

The beaters, in blouses and wooden shoes, walked past, 
conducted by the head gamekeeper. 

“Would you like, Mademoiselle, to fire first at some 
hares ? ” asked Roger. 

“ I like anything to-day,” answered .Germaine. 

“ There is a phice not far from here which is full of 
small game. We can commence there.” 

“ That is a good idea,” exclaimed Alfred. “ I have 
only hunted on horseback this year, and I should not be 
sorry to get my hand in.” 

“ Are there any partridges?” asked Uncle Armand. 

“ Two or three covies, the keeper tells me.” 

“ Good, we can pass a very agreeable quarter of an 
hour, while waiting for the big game.” 

They took the road to the left. The carriage follow- 


272 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


ed slowly. Germaine took care to place herself between 
her uncle and Roger. Alfred walked about ten feet in 
front of them. M. du Pommeval, who did not wish to 
remain too near the carriage, thought it best to join him. 

Ten minutes afterward, the Duke de Bretteville’s 
guests reached a clearing longer than it was broad. A 
thick coppice separated this clearing from the road, 
which was scarcely more than fifty yards away, so that 
Madame Daudierne and Laurence could view from their 
carriage everything that took place. 

Roger knew M. Daudierne’s wishes, and he took care 
to place Alfred at the extreme left of the line of shooters, 
sixty feet at least from his uncle. He placed M. du 
Pommeval at the extreme right, and Germaine in the 
centre, nearer her uncle than her suitor. 

Her mother observed these preliminaries with interest, 
but her sister did not appear to take any pleasure in 
them. She was absently watching the dog who slept 
with his feet stretched out and his head resting upon his. 
legs, like the dogs at the feet of a chatelaine on the 
tombs of the Middle Ages. And she looked so sad, that 
Madame Daudierne could not help noticing it. 

Since Arthur du Pommeval had officially asked for 
Germaine’s hand, the good lady had purposely abstained 
from questioning Laurence. She had carefully avoided 
being alone with her. And it was certainly not through in- 
difference that she behaved thus. She felt that Laurence 
must be mortified by the action of the young man, who 
had been so devoted to her and then suddenly declared 
his preference for her sister. But she thought that an 
explanation between herself and her daughter would 
only deepen a trouble which would pass away if no no- 
tice was taken of it. 

Madame Daudierne did not perceive the depth of this. 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


273 


sorrow. She had never asked herself if Laurence’s heart 
had been given to du Pommeval, and she preferred not 
to think of such a thing, being one of those natures who 
only believe the worst when forced to do so. 

It should be said also that Laurence’s attitude was be- 
ginning to reassure her. Laurence was not noticeably 
changed in appearance or manner. She was as calm as 
ever, affectionate to her family, and she did not make 
the least allusion to her sister’s marriage. 

“ What is the matter with you to-day, my dear child ? ” 
asked Madame Daudierne. “You haven’t said three 
words since we left La Germoniere. Are you ill? ” 

“ No, mother,” answered Laurence quietly. “ I am 
quiet because I don’t understand anything about hunting. 
The gentlemen spoke of nothing else.” 

“ This does not amuse you much, then?” 

“ Oh ! not at all ; but it amuses Germaine, and I did 
not wish to spoil her pleasure by remaining at home.” 

“ Indeed, she would have been very sorry to have left 
you alone. She loves you so much.” 

“ I return it fully.” 

“ Then you rejoice at her happiness ? ” 

“ I would willingly be resigned to suffer all my life, if 
I were sure that she would be happy.” 

“ Do you doubt that? I have never seen her so gay.” 

“ She is always so, and she never worries about the 
future.” 

“ I know that your characters are not alike, and — be- 
tween ourselves, I think you err a little in the opposite 
direction. By chance, your sister is going to be married 
before you. That is no reason for yon to despair of soon 
finding as good a match as M. du Pommeval.” 

“ Do you think that I regret him ? ” 

“ I think you may have thought of him — once.” 


■18 


274 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ I should have been very wrong to do so,” said Lau- 
rence evasively, “and it seems to me that Germaine 
would do well to think twice before marrying him.” 

“ That is my opinion also, and hers, as she has not yet 
said yes. She wishes to know him well first.” 

“ She doesn’t seem to study him much. And yet her 
decision can not be put off indefinitely.” 

“ No, certainly not. If the marriage is not settled be- 
fore we return to Paris, it will never be. We shall 
return under any circumstances for the New Year.” 

“ If I were in Germaine’s place, I should decide at once.” 

“Why? You have just declared the contrary.” 

“ Not precisely. I said that she would do well not to 
engage herself thoughtlessly. She has asked for time 
to reflect, and I approve of it. But she has not thought 
of M. du Pommeval’s peculiar position. He relies upon 
inheriting his uncle’s fortune, and his rights will be con- 
tested. You have the look of waiting to decide until he 
has won his case. If he loses, and Germaine refuses him 
afterward, it would be said that marriage with her was 
only a question of money.” 

“ That is true,” murmured Madame Daudierne. “ I 
hadn’t thought of that, nor your sister either, I am sure.” 

“ I am sure, too, that Germaine does not care for M. 
du Pommeval, and that she will refuse him, when she 
thinks she has played fast and loose with him long 
enough.” 

“ That would be very wrong of her, and if I were 
certain that you are not mistaken — ” 

“ You would stop this dangerous trifling. Well, ques- 
tion Germaine, question her thoroughly ; she is incapable 
of lying, and she will tell you all her secret; she has only 
told me half of it.” 

“A secret! Germaine has secrets! You alarm me.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


275 


“ Do you wish to hear what I know of it ? ” 

“Yes, certainly.” 

“ Well, Germaine imagines that I love M. du Pomm- 
eval, and she has confided to me that she does not love 
him ; she has even almost acknowledged to me that she 
loves another.” 

“Another! Do you realize what you are saying? 
And she encourages M. du Pommeval’s hopes! No, it 
is impossible. Germaine r sometimes thoughtless, in- 
considerate, what you like Yj&g would be worse than 
thoughtlessness.” Y r 

“ Germaine has an excuse in tier own eyes,” said Lau- 
rence quickly. “ She pretends, that she believes that M. 
du Pommeval will decide to marry me. She has taken it 
into her head that I loved him, that he loved me, and 
that he will return to me, when he sees that she does not 
care for him.” 

“ And for that reason she acts as she does,” cried Mad- 
ame Daudierne. “ She is mad. Why, doesn’t she com- 
prehend that this young man can not be your husband 
after being her accepted suitor? All the city of Arcy 
knows it.” 

“ She isn’t mad, but she consults her heart and not her 
reason at all. It would be useless for me to tell her that 
I would rather die than be the wife of M. du Pomme- 
val ; she would not believe me. She has even managed 
not to be alone with me, for fear of what I should say.” 

“ Why did not you tell me this sooner, my dear Lau- 
rence ? ” 

“ Germaine only told me this day before yesterday, and 
— why should I not acknowledge it? I hesitated to re- 
peat it to you.” 

“You were wrong. This uncomfortable situation 
must be put an end to. I will question your sister this 


27G 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


evening, and if she acknowledges that she is trifling with 
M. du Pommeval, she must tell me also what her object 
is, and if she loves another, well, she must tell me whom, 
and then — ” 

“ She will tell you; don’t doubt it. Dissimulation is 
not a fault of hers. I sincerely trust she has chosen well, 
and I hope that she will not be deceived.” 

“ Deceived — as you have been, my poor child,” mur- 
mured Madame Daudierne, who was beginning to read 
her daughter’s heart. 

The firing which broke out all along the line saved 
Laurence from replying. The beaters were advancing, 
shouting in order to scare the game hidden in the dry 
underbrush or cowering down in the furrows. The 
startled hares fled before the tumult, and in trying to en- 
ter the woods were killed at short range. The part- 
ridges flew in clouds and passed, swift as bullets, forty 
feet in the air. It was a running fire; a shower of balls 
not all of which hit their mark, for battue shooting is 
not very easy. The marksmen had scarcely time to re- 
load, and in front of them rose incessantly little clouds of 
smoke. It was like a skirmish, and nothing was want- 
ing to complete the picture but red trowsers in the clear- 
ing and Prussian helmets in the woods. 

Germaine took her part with great ardor and astonish- 
ing skill. It was wonderful to see her open her gun, 
search in her cartridge box, slip her cartridges into the 
barrels, raise her gun to her shoulder, fire her two bul- 
lets, and recommence the same exercise as if she had 
never done anything else in her life. 

Madame Daudierne did not like it. She had never 
been present at such an affair, and she could scarcely un- 
derstand how her daughter could take pleasure in the 
murderous amusement. 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


277 


Laurence did not look at it. 

She was occupied in restraining Belt, who had started 
up at the first shot, and was trying to leap out of the 
carriage. 

The first shooting did not last long. It did not take 
much time to beat a place of two hectares in extent, and 
the beaters soon arrived within gunshot of the hunters, 
who were forced to cease firing, for fear of an accident. 
Alfred fired one or two shots too many, but fortunately, 
he did not wound any one. 

Roger Pontac, seconded by the keeper, had conscien- 
tiously directed the battue, and now gave orders to have 
the fallen game collected together. There were only 
two partridges, and these Mademoiselle Daudierne had 
killed. She returned triumphant, her gun over her 
shoulder and her Breton hat pushed back on her head, 
her face flushed and her eyes brilliant with excitement. 
The men followed her at a distance talking over the 
shooting, and Pontac hurried to join them. 

“ Nine hares all alone by myself,” she cried to her 
mother, jumping into the road where the carriage was. 
“ It seems to me I have made a very good beginning. 
Uncle Armand did not miss a shot, but Alfred only hit 
his mark once out of ten, and M. du Pommeval shoots 
like a donkey. He should have stayed at home, and he 
had better give his choke-bore to M. Pontac.” 

“ Really, I don’t recognize you,” said Madame Daud- 
ierne severely. “ Y ou don’t express yourself like a wo- 
man.” 

“ At a hunt there are only hunters,” said Germaine 
laughing. 

“ Restrain yourself, I beg, or you will oblige me to 
cut short this hunting-excursion, which you make me re- 
gret having accepted. And besides, I wish to return 


278 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


early to La Germoniere, for I have something serious to 
speak to you about.” 

“ I am perfectly willing, but you forget that we are to 
have company. Uncle Armand has invited M. du Pom- 
meval and M. Pontac. He would invite the Duke de 
Bretteville, if he dared.” 

Her daughter’s tone did not please Madame Daud- 
ierne at all, and she would probably have answered her 
sharply, but the approach of the gentlemen prevented 
fier from scolding Germaine. 

Pontac was a little behind the others, and Germaine 
was so anxious to thank him that she ran to him, saying : 

“ Splendid ! Lovely ! I have never had such a good 
time in my life.” 

The lieutenant blushed, and faltered out some blund- 
ering compliment. He appeared so embarrassed that 
Laurence thought: 

“ Can it be this officer that she loves? A little more 
and she would have thrown herself on his neck, and he 
appears as if he did not dare to look at her for fear of 
betraying his sentiments.” 

“ Well, my dear Reine, what do you say to this kind 
of an amusement? ” exclaimed Uncle Armand. “This 
is a royal hunt, which this most amiable of lieutenants 
has arranged for us. But you don’t seem enthusiastic.” 

“ I am afraid Laurence is not very well,” responded 
Madame Daudierne, who sought some pretext to take 
her daughters home. 

“Really? She will take cold sitting here in the car- 
riage, and you will too. You must walk about a little. 
Why don’t you go up to the Fairy Rock?” 

“ The place we are going to beat now is quite near 
there,” said Roger Pontac. “ It borders on the high- 
way- — ” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR f 


2VJ 


“ Which runs past the foot of the rock,” interrupted 
M. Armand. 

“ I don’t like hunting much, but I care still less for 
difficult ascents,” said Madame Daudierne. 

“ Then I won’t urge you. But we should be very 
sorry to impose an unpleasant task upon you and Lau- 
rence. If you wish the carriage to take you back to La 
Germoniere, do so by all means. We are all able to go 
home on foot, aren’t we, Germaine ? ” 

“ Of course we are,” cried his niece. “ I never feel 
tired, when I feel happy, and to-day, I am more than 
happy.” 

It was evident that this was true; she looked so 
beaming, that her mother, who adored her, did not have 
the heart to scold her, or even to cross her wishes.” 

“We will remain till the end,” said she. “ I only beg 
you not to make it too late.” 

“ It will only last an hour or two longer, my dear sis- 
ter. My friend Pontac will conduct the three battues 
with military despatch. F orward, lieutenant, and double 
quick.” 

They returned to the crescent where lunch was still 
waiting, and Roger placed the gunners upon a narrow 
strip, which overlooked the road and stretched along the 
border of the forest. 

From this place, the forest of La Breteche, which 
Germaine had admired from the top of Lemon Rock, 
presented an imposing aspect. It was no common for- 
est. The ancestors of the Duke de Bretteville had al- 
ways thinned it every twenty years, respecting only trees 
of a certain height. These had plenty of room to grow 
in, and became in the course of time magnificent speci- 
mens, because they all had their share of air and sun- 
shine. The existence of the magnificent old trees in the 


280 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


forests of Fontainebleau and Compiegne is particularly 
due to this system. But a man who wished to make 
money from his woods, would not find it to his advant- 
age to pursue it, for these forest giants serve only to 
delight landscape painters. 

The place they were about to beat was entirely 
planted with beeches, almost all a hundred years old. 
Their white trunks rose up here and there like enormous 
columns supporting an endless arch. At intervals, were 
long mossy clearings, dotted with luxuriant clumps of 
shrubbery, tall enough to give cover to the deer. *. And 
the deer of La Breteche were so rarely hunted that they 
had no fear of leaving the safer covers in the forest it- 
self. They were often seen wandering about in little 
herds, and sometimes even advancing to the edge of 
the rarely frequented road which led from La Ger- 
moniere to Bretteville. 

The carriage took up its position in this road, and 
Pontac went to join his men, who had to make a long 
detour in order to approach the place from the best side, 
that is, so as to encircle certain thickets where the deer 
were likely to be found and drive them toward the 
corner where the sportsmen were stationed. 

The latter were posted in the same order as before. 

Alfred and M. du Pommeval at the two ends of the 
line, Germaine and Uncle Armand in the center. And 
this time, Madame Daudierne and Laurence would be 
very near spectators of the sport. 

It was the moment when old hunters themselves be- 
come excited. They do not know whether luck will be 
with or against them, exactly like players at roulette who 
watch the whirl of the wheel. Just as the ivory ball 
falls by chance into one of the divisions, the deer may 
run close to some poor marksmen who misses them, or 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


281 


on the contrary present themselves under favorable con- 
ditions before the best shot of the party. It is a matter 
of luck, and the most skillful may be left in the lurch, 
if the game does not come within range. This happens 
often enough, and in such cases, it is the hunted animals 
who have the luck. 

Each one was prepared to take advantage of any fa- 
vorable opportunity chance might have in store for him. 
Germaine, her gun ready, her eyes and ears open, felt 
her heart beat with delight and hope. But the demon 
of the chase had not taken such complete possession of 
her as to make her forget Roger. She admired him for 
the modest part he had chosen to play, and the more she 
compared him with M. du Pommeval, the more superior 
she thought him to the provincial gommeux , who had 
never done anything but make a show of his money, and 
who thought himself irresistible. She was beginning to 
think that it was time to declare to her mother that she 
would not marry the new lord of F ougeray at any price, 
and that she wished to yield that honor to her sister. 

There w r as another avowal which she ought to make, 
but which w r as more difficult. It would be terribly hard 
to acknowledge that she loved a penniless hussar on 
leave, a bird of passage, a man almost unknown to her, 
as she had only seen him four times. The hour was not 
come, .she saw that clearly. She must wait. For what? 
She did not know\ Perhaps for one of those events 
which happens only in romances, a wave of a fairy’s 
wand transforming the poor officer into a millionaire, 
the son of the laborer into a landed proprietor. 

Germaine did not doubt but that Madame Daudierne 
had determined to compel her to decide that very even- 
ing. 

And Germaine had resolved not to approach the car- 


282 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


riage again. Motionless, leaning against the trunk of a 
gigantic beech, she watched for one of the signs which 
announced the approach of game, a trampling of the dry 
leaves or a rustling of the shrubbery. 

Suddenly, the silence of the forest was broken by the 
distant cries of the beaters, and in a moment, fifty feet 
from where she was, from out of a great mass of yellow 
shrubbery, appeared the delicate head of a deer. 

The deer did not see Germaine, but Germaine saw it 
very clearly. She raised her gun to her shoulder quickly, 
and was about to fire, when the graceful animal turned 
its head toward her, presenting a three-quarter view. It 
looked at her with its great soft black eyes and made no 
movement to fly. Perhaps it took her for one of the 
little shepherd boys who pastured their flocks upon the 
grass along the side of the road. 

4 No,” she murmured, lowering her weapon, “ I could 
not be so cruel as to kill it so. I will wait till it starts to 
run, and if it can escape, so much the better. I don’t 
want to shoot it. I even hope Alfred won’t see it. Al- 
fred would fire at it, and as he is a bad shot, he would 
mangle it.” 

Germaine was moved to pity, although she had just 
been shooting hares and partridges without a thought. 
Pity is a very complex sentiment, which depends very 
much upon circumstances, which is easily enough stifled 
and which is dulled very quickly. At the end of a bloody 
combat, the least ferocious soldier does not hesitate to 
kill a man whom he would have assisted if he had met 
him on the eve of the battle, and wholesale slaughter 
makes less impression than a single murder. 

At the bottom, it is all a matter of nerves. Cries of 
anguish touch the hardest heart. But unfortunate are 
the beings who suffer in silence. No one reflects upon 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


283 


the horrible torture a lobster which is thrown alive into 
boiling water undergoes. 

And then the outward appearance has its influence. 
W e spare a beautiful butterfly, but we take pleasure in 
crushing a hideous spider. 

Besides, Germaine’s tender-heartedness had not yet 
been subjected to any serious proof. The running hare 
and the flying partridge fall, when shot, at quite a dis- 
tance from the hunter, who does not witness their death. 
In a battue, he is not even obliged to soil his hands with 
their blood, since the keepers are charged with picking 
them up. But this was not the same. Germaine had to 
fire upon an animal who did not dream of escaping. In 
war, before action, a sentinel does not fire upon the ene- 
my’s sentinel opposite him. There is a sort of tacit truce 
between these soldiers, who at the sound of the drums 
beating to arms will rush upon each other with fixed 
bayonets. In the same way, in hunting, it is a recog- 
nized rule not to fire upon a motionless animal. One 
might better fire at a target. 

A deer who does not move is one of God’s creatures; 
we admire and respect it. When it runs away, it is game, 
and we fire at it without scruple and without remorse. 

On this occasion, the suspension of arms was not of 
long duration. The cries of the peasants became more 
distinct, and the sonorous sound of their clubs striking 
the branches and trunks of the trees could be distinguish- 
ed. Three of four deer who were browsing not far off, 
hidden by the shrubbery, rose at once and bounded away 
in all directions. Most of them dashed into the forest 
and so avoided the bullets of the sportsmen posted upon 
its edge. One alone, the one which Germaine had been 
observing for some time, had the unfortunate idea of 
forcing the line, and it ran between her and her brother. 


284 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


She had not the time nor perhaps the courage to fire, 
but Alfred discharged his gun, at the risk of wounding 
Germaine, and, by chance, he hit the deer. 

The poor beast, struck in the flank, as it was leaping 
into the road, fell, rose again and dragged itself in a dy- 
ing condition to the carriage in which Madame Daud- 
ierne and Laurence were seated. 

“Mine! It is mine,” cried the inexperienced hunter 
at the top of his voice. 

“ Be still!” exclaimed Uncle Armand. “ If you con- 
tinue to scream like that, we shall see nothing but rab- 
bits. There!” he continued, “now he is leaving his 
place. The idiot will spoil our whole day.” 

It was true. F orgetting the fundamental rule of bat- 
tues and the wise advice of M. Daudierne, Alfred was 
running to his deer. W as it to carry it away or to finish 
his work? He did not know himself. His delight had 
turned his head. 

The deer, wounded to death, writhed in despair and 
groaned like a child. 

“ Oh ! this is horrible,” said Laurence, turning away 
her eyes. “ I don’t wish to see any more of it.” 

And she opened the door to get out. 

Belt did not lose a second. Before his mistress had 
risen, he was on the ground. 

Call off your dog,” shrieked Alfred. “ Take him 
away or I’ll kill him.” 

“Jean,” said Madame Daudierne to her coachman, 
“ drive on a little. We are too near the gunners, and we 
probably disturb them.” 

“Madame is right,” answered Jean, who was an old 
family servant and had the right to speak. “ I can hear 
the bullets whistle, and my mares may be struck.” 

It was certainly not a useless precaution to change 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR f 


285 


their position, considering Alfred’s excitement and lack 
of skill; but Madame Daudierne wished to drive on 
chiefly to get away from the sad spectacle of the agony 
of an inoffensive animal. 

She did not like to witness bloodshed any more than 
her daughter, and the deer, who was fighting against 
death, was bleeding profusely. 

“ I will not remain here a minute longer,” said Lau- 
rence, when the carriage had stopped again. 

“ I should like nothing better than to go away,” an- 
swered Madame Daudierne, “ but I cannot leave Ger- 
maine without me on this wretched day. She is ex- 
cited to the highest point, and she would certainly com- 
mit some folly.” 

“ I think myself that you ought to watch her — and 
others. But my presence here can do no good, and I do 
not care to witness scenes which I dislike. I am going 
up to that rock.” 

u Alone? ” 

“ I would rather go with you, but you would be very 
much fatigued, and I shall run no risk. Belt will es- 
cort me, and besides you will not lose sight of me.” 

L^mon Rock overlooked the road, just in front of the 
obelisk, and Madame Daudierne could indeed from the 
carriage follow with her eyes her daughter as she 
ascended the hill, which Germaine had one evening de- 
scended, assisted by Roger Pontac. 

And she had only to look on the other side to keep an 
eye on her younger daughter. 

“ If you promise me to be prudent and not to go too 
far,” she said, “ I will allow you to undertake the ascent, 
although it seems to me wiser not to attempt it.” 

“ I will not go beyond the ridge you see from here, 
and I will return when this carnage is ended.” 


2SG 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ Unfortunately, it has only just commenced.” 

This was true. The beaters were approaching, and 
already several deer had appeared and were saluted by 
a shower of bullets, although little execution was done. 

“ Come, Belt,” said Laurence to her dog, who seemed 
to hesitate. “ Come with me. They would kill you.” 

The dog was not a hunter, and, at a signal from the 
young girl, he followed her without regret. 

“Why did I come?” she thought, walking rapidly 
toward her chosen object, although she had not the least 
desire to consult the oracle. “ This methodical slaugh- 
ter disgusts me, and Germaine must be crazy to find any 
pleasure in it, more crazy even than when she conceived 
the pilgrimage to the fairies’ castle. I am going there, 
to be sure, but it is in order to escape from that hateful 
hunt; they will not tell me the name of my husband, for 
I shall never marry.” 

Laurence continued to ascend, without turning her 
head, even when she was obliged to stop to take breath. 
She did not wish to see the preparations for lunch, the 
white clouds of smoke, the carriages, the liveries, which 
would recall to her that M. du Pommeval was there, and 
that she would doubtless be obliged to submit to his com- 
pany on her return. 

She went on to seek forgetfulness, and her thoughts 
insensibly took another course. The pure air of the hills 
refreshed her burning face, and she gradually began to 
admire the magnificent picture before her eyes. 

The forest seemed only a sombre mass, and she could 
hear only a distant crackling instead of the din of the 
guns. 

The rock rose before her silent and bare. The sky 
was blue with the clear, pale, sad blue of late autumnal 
days. An eagle hovered above the granite tower; and 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


287 


the wind rustled and sighed in the heather which car- 
peted the soil of this solitude. 

Laurence’s spirits revived, and she was not slow in 
reaching the rock, made romantic by a legend in which 
she now felt a growing interest. 

Belt also seemed impatient to reach the top of the 
wild-looking hill. He ran ahead, with his nose in the 
air, stopping occasionally to bark joyously. 

He was the first to reach the foot of the rock, the very 
same place where Roger Pontac was, when Germaine 
questioned the fairies at the mouth of the fissure on the 
other side of the stone cube, and he pointed, with his 
head raised, as dogs do crouching down before a tree on 
which are perched a covey of red-legged partridges. 

“What is it?” asked Laurence, who knew his ways. 
Five feet above the base of the square block, commenced 
a fissure, narrow as a loop-hole in the wall of a castle of 
the Middle Ages. This sort of window was placed too 
high for the young girl to look in. Roger Pontac had 
used it as a speaking-trumpet to answer Germaine, but 
Roger Pontac was tall enough to enlist in a regiment of 
cuirassiers, and he had only preferred the hussars, because 
the former are never called upon to fight in Africa. 

Laurence was greatly astonished that Belt did not 
move, and wondered if there was some one there whom 
he knew ; but as it was very improbable that the interior 
of the rock was inhabited, she abandoned this supposi- 
tion, and determined to make the tour of this donjon, 
not built by the hand of man. Before attempting it, 
however, she looked below her, and saw the carriage, 
the servants and the hunters in the place she had left 
them. 

Her mother waved her handkerchief to show her 
doubtless that she was watching all her movements. This 


288 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


signal recalled to her memory that she had promised not 
to go out of sight, and she gave up the idea of a com- 
plete exploration of the fairies’ palace. 

Then she commenced to feel a vague uneasiness. She 
looked around the corner of the massive rock and she 
was not a little surprised at seeing a much larger cVevice 
than the other and much more accessible. 

The aspect of this black opening seemed to her to 
have something forbidding about it, and she took care 
not to approach it, as Germaine, more curious and less 
timid, had done. She called her dog, who could defend 
her, in case she had need of a defender, which was not 
probable. 

Belt did not obey as promptly as usual, but he finally 
quitted his post of observation and came up, searching 
about and scenting the moss as if to find traces of a 
friend’s footsteps. 

He soon ceased this, and stopping short before the 
yawning opening, he uttered a sonorous bay and bounded 
into the depths of, the cavern. 

Laurence, astounded and still more frightened, instinct- 
ively recoiled, and tried to run away. But she had no 
strength to run nor voice to call. 

Belt had disappeared; Belt gave no signs of life. He 
had forced an entrance into the subterranean abode of 
the fairies, and the fairies were keeping him prisoner to 
punish him for his audacity. 

This idea, which would probably have entertained 
Germaine, did not trouble Laurence’s calmer and more 
sensible brain. But, nevertheless, she was very uneasy. 

There was evidently a man there, and a man whom 
Belt knew. 

“If it were Roch Ferrer,” thought the young girl, 
“ I could understand why Belt leaped into the hole; but 


OR, WIIO IS THE HEIR? 


289 


what could Roch Ferrer be doing there? He promised 
me to go to the Chateau de Bretteville and see M. Pon- 
tac, and he ought to have gone there yesterday. Sup- 
posing even that he did not go, what motive could he 
have for hiding here? Can he have heard that they 
were searching for him to arrest him and put him in 
prison? I did not tell him that we should hunt to-day 
in the forest of La Breteche, and even if he knew that, 
he could not guess that I should come up to this 
rock.” 

Laurence’s reflections were here interrupted by her 
dog leaping out of the cave and crouching down at her 
feet. 

“ Where do you come from, you bad dog?” she asked 
him. 

Belt could not answer by a bark, for he held in his 
mouth an object which he would not drop; but he had 
doubtless brought it to his mistress, for he made no 
objection to her taking it. 

It was a sort of buckskin bag, or rather pocket-book, 
closed by a steel button, which, probably, opened by a 
secret spring. It was square in form, and it had evi- 
dently been carried around the neck, for it had a leather 
strap attached to a ring at each of the upper corners. 

How did it come to be in the rock? Who had hidden 
it there ? And by what wonderful instinct had Belt gone 
there to find it? All these questions presented them- 
selves at once, and Laurence did not know how to answer 
them, when in turning the pocket-book over in her hands 
she noticed two initials stamped upon it in black — two V’s. 

Then she remembered all at once that Madame Vig- 
nemal was called Virginie. Germaine had often laughed 
at this sentimental name, which was so unsuited to the 
very prosaic proprietress of the Fougeray estates. 


19 


290 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


And she recalled also the story which the poacher had 
told her upon the bank of the Beuvron. 

“ This is the pocket-book which Roch found under the 
tamarinds where Madame Vignemal lost it,” she mur- 
mured. “ He told me that he had put it in a place where 
no one could find it. And, indeed, no one would have 
thought of coming to seek it in this rock. Roch F errer. 
who rambles about everywhere, of course knows L^mon. 
Rock. Fie came here expressly to hide this relic of the 
dead. He did not suspect that Belt would bring it to me.” 

All this was more than probable. But what to do 
with the pocket-book which evidently contained impor- 
tant papers, perhaps title deeds ? Should she throw it back 
again into the hole ? This was Mademoiselle Daudierne ? s 
first thought, but she soon saw that she had no right to 
do so. The thing had a value for the heir by will or for 
the heirs by descent. To abandon it would be to hurt 
some one, for one of two things would happen; either 
it would lie there without profit to any one or it would 
fall into the hands of some peasant coming to the rock 
to consult the fairies, and in the latter case, there would 
be no certainty of the object being restored to the 
one who had a right to it. Roch Ferrer had certainly 
determined to make no use of it, since he had got rid of 
it. And, besides, Roch Ferrer was about to leave the 
country, probably forever. 

“ The secret of the inheritance is, perhaps, here,” 
thought Laurence, patting the little buckskin bag, “ and 
it rests with me to make that secret known. And if 
chance has led me here, it is because God wishes me to 
do so. But how can I ? For nothing in the world would 
I consent to open this pocket-book which a poacher has 
respected. Shall I give it to that du Pommeval, who 
would not scruple to open it and destroy it if he 


OR, WIIO IS THE HEIR? 


291 


should find it for his interest to do so? No, no, 
never! I will not be even the indirect cause of harm to 
people who are worth more than he; and on the other 
hand if I should show what I have found to one of the 
magistrates who are to judge the case between the claim- 
ants of the property, I should be obliged to answer the 
questions which they would not fail to ask me, and as I 
could not lie, I should have to repeat to them what that 
unfortunate man told me, and that would be to ruin him 
and to seriously compromise myself. They would hear 
my avowal of our nocturnal interview, and I could not 
justify my actions by any explanations.” 

Belt kept his eyes fixed on his mistress. It seemed as 
if he was waiting her command to take the pocket-book 
back to the place where he had found it, and Laurence 
for a moment thought of using the dog as a messenger, 
of putting the object in his mouth and letting him go 
where his instinct led him. This would be a way of 
freeing herself from all responsibility, but it would not 
solve the problem, for Belt might leave the pocket-book 
in the heather or on the road, and he might also allow 
it to be taken from him by the first person who should 
caress him, Uncle Armand, for example, or M. du Pom- 
meval, which would be worse. 

In the midst of her perplexity, Laurence raised her head, 
and saw two gleaming eyes fixed upon her from the 
gloom of the opening. A man was there standing 
within the rock, like the statute of a saint in a niche. 
He had advanced noiselessly to the entrance of the fair- 
ies’ corridor, and the light fell full upon him. But she 
did not recognize him at first; she saw only his eyes, 
and she recoiled in a fright. 

“ Do not be alarmed, Mademoiselle,” said a voice which 
made her start again. “ I wish to speak to you, but I 


292 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


don’t care to be seen by those who are watching you.” 

“You!” cried Laurence. “ What are you doing there?” 

“ I am hiding,” answered Roch F errer. “ I know 
they are seeking for me, but they won’t find me. To- 
morrow, I shall be far away. But I could not go with- 
out seeing you again. I guessed that you would come 
up to Lemon Rock. If you had not done so, I should 
have asked Dr. Subligny to bring you this evening to 
the bank of the Beuvron. 

“ Dr. Subligny! You have told him — ” 

“ Nothing, except that I love you, that for years I 
have followed you wherever you went, and I swore to 
him that I had never dared to accost you.” 

“ That was too much. Altogether too much for him 
to know — ” 

“ What does it matter, since I am going away ? I am 
going to Africa, and I shall never return.” 

“ You have seen M. Pontac then? ” 

“Yes, this morning, in this very place. He comes 
here every day, and I slept last night in the fairies’ cave. 
He has promised that this evening he would give me 
money, clothes, and a letter recommending me to his 
colonel. In eight days I shall be a soldier.” 

“ What you have done is right, Monsieur,” murmured 
the young girl with emotion. “ I forgive you for the 
fright you have just caused me, and I shall pray for 
your success.” 

“ I may hope then that you will not forget me?” 

“ Forget you! Oh, no! I shall always remember that 
you offered to sacrifice yourself to satisfy a fancy I had, 
and which I have no more.” 

“ Is it really true that you no longer wish that man to 
lose the fortune he hopes for ? ” 

“ It is so true that I am going to return to you Ma- 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


293 


dame Vignemal’s pocket-book. You can do what you 
please with it. M. du Pommeval is indifferent to me.” 

“ I know that it is not you he is going to marry. The 
major told me so.” 

“ The major?” 

“ Yes, Dr. Subligny. But he told me also that he was 
going to marry your sister, and for that reason I gave 
the pocket-book to Belt. You would, perhaps, have 
refused to take it from my hand, and I cannot keep it. 
If you do not wish to open it, give it to Dr. Subligny.” 

“ It would be better for you to give it to him.” 

“ I shall not see him again. I ought to go to his house 
to-morrow; but if I should enter Arcy, I should be 
arrested. They are watching for me. M. Pontac has 
promised to explain to the major why I go away to- 
night, and I am sure that the major will approve. If 
you do not wish to tell him that we have met, say that 
your dog found the pocket-book in the hole where I had 
hidden it. Dr. Subligny knows now all the truth regarding 
the accident at the ferry. He knows that Madame Vig- 
nemal’s first thought, when the boat was carried away, 
was of the pocket-book ; she took it from around her neck, 
and clasped it tightly in her hand, so tightly that she did 
not let it go when she lost consciousness. If she was so 
anxious that it should not be lost in the river, it was be- 
cause it contained something valuable. The major thinks 
that and so do I. Therefore, I decided that I could not 
keep the thing. It seems that if du Pommeval does not 
inherit, M. Pontac and the others will.” 

u M. Pontac! You must be mistaken.” 

“No, mademoiselle, M. Pontac is a relation of Ma- 
dame Vignemal’s.” 

“And we did not know it,” said Laurence; “that is 
strange.” 


294 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ The major could have told you; for he knew M. 
Pontac when M. Pontac was at college. His cousin had 
sent him there, and he ran away to enlist.” 

“Yes, I remember the doctor did relate to us that 
story; it seems to me he even told us the name of Ma- 
dame Vignemal’s protege, but no one of us remembered 
it. But then, you should give this to M. Pontac. He 
is more interested than any one in knowing if Madame 
Vignemal changed her will.” 

“ I thought of that, only I feared to displease you.” 

“ Me! What matters it to me whether M. du Pomme- 
val is rich or not ? ” 

“To you, nothing, certainly; but — to your sister?” 

“ My sister does not love him.” 

“ And they are endeavoring to force her to marry 
him, perhaps!” exclaimed Roch Ferrer. “Ah! I was 
right then to offer that pocket-book to M. Pontac.” 

“ Y ou did that ? ” 

“Yes, I acknowledge it. I detest that M. du Pom- 
meval, and I should not be sorry to injure him. That is 
wrong, I know. And I should have consulted you be- 
fore speaking to M. Pontac.” 

“And you told him how this object fell into your 
hands?” 

« I told him all.” 

“ Well?” 

“ Well, he refused to take it.” 

“He has, perhaps, refused a fortune, and he has 
nothing.” 

“ He has his rank, and he cares nothing for money. 
There was no use in my saying anything; he would not 
even listen to me. I told him that I should send the 
pocket-book to Dr. Subligny, who would open it; he 
answered me that I could do what I wished, provided 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


295 


he heard no more of the inheritance. And he would 
have nothing to do with the other cousins if they should 
seek to persuade him to join them in a lawsuit.” 

“ There are some noble hearts still,” murmured Lau- 
rence. 

“ Will you refuse now to leave the matter to Dr. 
Subligny’s judgment?” asked Roch Ferrer gently. 

“ No,” answered Laurence in a firm voice. “ What- 
ever happens, I shall have done my duty; and it will be 
sweet to me to think that you are beyond the reach of 
pursuit and — calumny.” 

Roch fell on his knees, with tears in his eyes. 

“Farewell,” continued Laurence. “And, if we 
should never see each other again, remember, that in 
F ranee, in the country you love, some one is praying for 
you. And now, rise, Monsieur. We should kneel only 
before God.” 

Roch Ferrer obeyed. He rose and remained motion- 
less, his body erect, his head up, and his eyes fixed on 
the young girl, great eyes wet with tears, eyes which 
spoke. 

“ Y ou are going away ? ” he asked in a husky voice. 

“ I must. I am called,” answered Mademoiselle Dau- 
dierne. 

And it was no pretext to cut short a perilous interview. 
Her mother was making her from below repeated and 
almost imperative signs to come back. 

“ Have you nothing more to say to me? ” murmured 
the Bohemian. 

“ I have only one word to say to you: Courage*! ” 

“ Courage ! I have that, since I give up seeing you. 
But, I have a favor to ask of you.” 

“ Speak.” 

“I beg you to permit me to write to you. Oh! not 


29G 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


directly. I will address my letters to Dr. Subligny, who 
will read them to you, so you may be sure they will con- 
tain nothing which could offend you.” 

“ The doctor*! he knows — ” 

“ He knows that I love you with a senseless love, and 
that I consent to change my life, to give up my liberty, 
because you wish it. He will not be astonished to see 
that I devote my life to you, the new life which I accept 
in obedience to you. You have commanded me to 
retrieve my past, you have pointed out to me the road I 
must follow to deserve your pardon ; will you not suffer 
me to say to you from afar: I am walking in the path 
you traced for me ? ” 

“ Nothing which happens to you could fail to interest 
me. I shall be glad to learn that you have become a 
brave soldier; and when you have gained your epau- 
lets like M. Pontac, I shall be proud of having divined 
your real worth. I must, therefore, know where you 
are,” she continued gaily. “Write to the doctor, write 
to him often. He will keep me informed — and — he shall 
answer you for me. F or must you not also know if I 
am still in the world ? ” 

“Yes, for if you should die, I would not survive 
you.” 

“ I have no thought of dying, and I am sure I shall 
see you again. God has inspired you with the happy 
thought of going away. God will bring you back some 
day to the country where you leave friends. On that 
day, our house will be open to you, and nothing then 
will prevent you from telling my mother that when 
Lieutenant Ferrer was still only a poacher, I had a long 
interview with him at the foot of the fairy rock.” 

This was said smilingly and in a light manner, which 
was little in accord with the emotion Laurence felt, and 


0R } WHO IS THE HEIR? 


297 


which she was afraid to let appear. She was no longer 
sure enough of herself to face a scene of passionate 
farewells, and yet she did not wish Roch to depart in 
despair. On delicate occasions, education and the cus- 
toms of society are of great use. Mademoiselle Dau- 
dierne had struck just the happy mean. 

And she hastened to take advantage of her success to 
cut short a situation which was not without danger and 
which threatened to become ridiculous. If Roch should 
disappear into the depths of the cavern, or if he should 
come out to kiss Laurence’s hand, as he had once done 
on the borders of Tertre wood, the affair would become 
grotesque. He felt this himself, for he did not stir. But 
it was necessary to bring matters to an end. 

“Au revoir, Monsieur,” said Laurence, caressing Belt 
and pointing to Roch. 

Belt understood. With a bound he cleared the dis- 
tance, and rising on his hind legs, he stretched out his 
head to Roch, who covered it with kisses. He also 
understood. 

“ Y es, au revoir,” repeated the young girl. “ In two 
years, in five years, in ten years, we will meet again, shall 
we? I will wait till you tell me when, through our 
friend, the doctor. We shall not recognize each other, 
perhaps, for I shall be no longer young, and you will be 
a fine officer. Our hearts do not change.” 

“No, they do not change,” murmured Ferrer. “I 
shall love you always, and you will never love me ? ” 

“ Who knows ? ” said Laurence. 

The reply had a double meaning and could not com- 
promise her. She regretted, however, that it had escaped 
her, and to spare herself any explanation, she commenced 
to descend the hill rapidly. 

Roch had self-command enough not to follow her. 


298 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


He had taken her words for encouragement, and hope 
had remained to him. 

Mademoiselle Daudierne had assuredly made no pro- 
mise, but she did not go away as she had come. Her 
interview with the poacher had disturbed her. She saw 
?him now under a new aspect. He was no longer the 
vagabond, the rambler about the woods, whose first 
appearance had so terrified her. He was a brave and 
loyal youth, who asked nothing except to live for her 
or to die for F ranee. And she prayed that he might 
live. 

And then she remembered the mysterious pocket-book 
which she had only to open to know Madame Vigne- 
mal’s last and definite wishes. She did not know yet 
what she would do with it, but she took care not to lose 
it in the heather where the first passer-by might find it. 
She slipped it into her bosom, without remembering that 
the dead woman had carried it in the same place. She 
was too much preoccupied to think of the presentiments 
which that recollection might have given rise to. 

Madame Daudierne had not alighted, but the carriage 
was no longer in the same place ; it was stationed at some 
distance from where the battue was going on, and the 
compassionate mistress of La Germoniere was seated so 
that her back was turned to the massacre. 

The scene of the deer dying before her eyes had 
almost been repeated two or three times since Laurence’s 
departure, and her mother did not wish to be forced to 
witness such a scene again. On the border of the for- 
est, the firing was continuous. The beaters were finish- 
ing their task, and the poor animals they drove before 
them dashed blindly before the gunners, who did not 
often miss them. 

Even Alfred killed at almost every shot. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


299 


This butchery was beginning to disgust Germaine, 
and she had already more than once spared a deer, which 
she could easily have shot if she had wished to. 

F ortunately, the carnage was approaching an end. 

The line of beaters was drawing near. They could be 
perceived through the trees with Roger Pontac at their 
head. 

Laurence closed her ears and turned away her eyes, 
as she crossed the crescent to join her mother. 

“ This hunt revolts me,” said Madame Daudierne, as 
she came up, “ and I will not stay here till the end. At 
the first pause in this abominable tragedy, I shall call 
Germaine, and take you and her back to La Germoniere. 
The gentlemen can do very well without us.” 

“ But Germaine will not want to go.” 

“She must do so, however; and I shall have a serious 
talk with her this evening. Our relations with M. du 
Pomm^val cannot continue on the footing they are at 
present. Since you have told me your sister’s plans, I 
have been anxious to return home, and I have waited 
for you impatiently. You remained a very long 
time.” 

“ I was examining that rock, which is very curious.” 

“ And Belt ran away, as usual, didn’t he ? He is hard 
to manage. I was observing him from here, and it 
seems to me he carried his explorations very far, for he 
disappeared for quite a long time.” 

“There is a cavern in the fairy rock. Belt ran in, 
and I thought for a time I should *never see him again. 
But I have brought him back, and he will not quit us 
again, for he does not like the smell of powder.” 

“ I agree with him there, but — do you hear that ?” 
“What?” 

“ Those cries. Ah! Good heavens! Can any one be 


300 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


in danger? Who knows if those men have not started 
up a boar? or a wolf?” 

“No, no, the other day Uncle Armand said before me 
that there were no boars in the forest of La Breteche, 
and wolves only think of their own safety when they 
see so many people together.” 

Laurence was right; but if she had listened more at- 
tentively, she would have known what was the matter. 

The last deer was running by, and the hunters were 
tiring a final salvo, when Roger’s voice was heard, cry- 
ing out: 

“ The stag! take care! don’t fire!” 

The stag rose suddenly from a thicket, where he had 
been reposing without paying attention to all the noise. 
He had not heard the braying of a pack of hounds, and 
he knew that it was not him they wanted. But Roger 
Pontac having almost stepped upon him, he rose, with- 
out hurrying himself much and appeared at the farther 
end of the line. 

He was going, therefore, to pass successively within 
range of all the guns, and Pontac, who had recognized 
the ten branched antlers he had spoken of before the 
battue , was not content with simply calling out to stop 
firing. He doubted the coolness of his guests, and in 
order to better protect the king of the forest, he started 
to follow him with long strides, reiterating his warning 
not to shoot. 

All went well at first. The stag, taking an oblique 
direction toward the left, because the beaters came from 
the right, passed thirty paces from M. du Pommeval, 
- twenty from M. Daudierne, and ten from Germaine, 
all of whom conducted themselves correctly. Arthur 
and Uncle Armand understood how to observe the rules 
of a hunt, and Germaine, less experienced, thought only 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


301 


of admiring the noble animal, who scarcely deigned to 
fly, and who did not turn aside to avoid her. 

He was going straight toward Alfred, who was posted 
thirty paces further on, and it was plain to be seen that 
he intended to leap into the road, follow it quietly, and 
re-enter the forest at another place. 

These tactics would have succeeded, but it was written 
that the day should end with a drama. 

At the very moment he was passing Mademoiselle 
Daudierne, the report of a gun was heard, and the stag, 
wounded in the left shoulder, stopped suddenly. 

He did not see the imprudent Alfred, who had fired, 
but he saw Germaine, and rushed upon her with low- 
ered head. 

It would have been all over with the poor child if she 
had not had the presence of mind to take refuge behind 
the trunk of the beech against which she was leaning. 

The stag passed by her, turned again, and recom- 
menced the attack with still more fury. 

Alfred had completely lost his head, du Pommeval 
was at the other end of the line, and M. Daudierne, who 
was within range to fire, did not dare to, for fear of 
hurting his niece. 

His gun, besides, was loaded with a number four bul- 
let, excellent to kill a roebuck or a doe, but much too 
small for a stag. 

Germaine continued to turn about the tree. This man- 
oeuvre succeeded, and it was the only chance of safety 
remaining to her, for if she had attempted to fly, the 
stag would have reached her at a single bound. 

Infuriated, he returned again and again to the charge, 
but missed her each time; every time, however, he 
stopped less far away, and returned more quickly, while 
the young girl was becoming dizzy and worn out. 


302 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


The terrible antlers had already touched her once and 
there was a great rent in her Breton coat, but she did 
not lose her courage. 

Unfortunately, her foot slipped upon the moss, and 
she fell. Then she knew she was lost; but before clos- 
ing her eyes, she perceived Roger Pontac running tow- 
ard her, and she felt he would not let her die thus. 

“ Help me ! ” she gasped. 

The spectators of this exciting scene had then a terri- 
ble moment to pass through. 

Rendered powerless, as they could not use their guns, 
and paralyzed with horror, they all comprehended that 
Lieutenant Pontac was the only one in a condition to 
rescue Germaine. 

Roger had no gun, and if he had one, he could not 
have fired without running the risk of killing the young 
girl, for the stag was almost upon her; but Roger had a 
hunting-knife, not one of those toy daggers which no- 
vices carry hung to their belt in an elegant sheath, but a 
real knife which the head-gamekeeper had lent him, 
a solid, sharp and pointed knife which had been used 
many times on stags at bay and boars who had turned 
upon the dogs. 

When he first perceived the stag, Roger had thought 
of the danger which might eventually threaten Germaine. 

A shot fired despite his commands and awkwardly 
aimed, and the animal would precipitate himself upon 
the person nearest to him. 

And Roger started to follow the stag, knowing that 
if no accident happened he would not overtake him, 
but he would arrive in time if the animal stopped to 
attack any one. 

The thing he had feared had happened, and Made- 
moiselle Daudierne was the one in danger. 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


303 


F ortunately , she had coolness enough to avoid the first 
attacks. 

When she fell, Roger was only a few feet from the 
stag, and as she called out “ Help me! ” he seized the 
furious beast by the horns, and turned aside the blow 
which would have pierced poor Germaine’s breast. 

Held by hands of iron, the deer fell upon his knees, 
but he was not conquered. 

He tried to shake his enemy off and to pin him to the 
earth. If Roger had let go, he would have been lost, 
but he did not relax his grip. 

Kneeling down also, with his hunting-knife between 
his teeth, he threw all his weight upon the antlers to 
force the stag over on his side. 

He succeeded after a struggle of five minutes, which 
would have been time enough for the young girl to 
escape if she had wished to do so, for she had risen to 
her feet, and could have reached a place of safety, while 
her defender w£s fighting for her. 

The stag, struck by Alfred’s bullet, was not seriously 
wounded, but he had lost much blood and his strength 
was diminished. He finally yielded and Roger was able to 
place his knee upon the animal’s neck, seize his knife 
with his right hand and strike in the most vulnerable 
place, just in the small of the shoulder. The weapon 
entered up to the hilt, and he did not withdraw it. The 
stag was killed almost instantly. One last start nearly 
threw Pontac over, but that was all. 

He rose quickly and hastened to Germaine. She was 
awaiting him, pale and trembling. Her uncle came up, 
followed by du Pommeval. Alfred, in a terrible state 
of mind, ran to warn Madame Daudierne. 

“ Thank you,” she murmured, holding out her hand 
to the man .‘’he loved. 


304 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


She could not do less, but she involuntarily did much 
more. 

Her strength suddenly gave way, and she would have 
fallen if Roger had flot caught her. She made no resis- 
tance, and her mother, her sister, her uncle, her brother 
and her suitor arrived just in time to see her head repos- 
ing upon the shoulder of the lieutenant, who held her 
in his arms. 

It would be difficult to describe exactly the scene 
which followed, Madame Daudierne’s fright, Laurence’s 
astonishment, Alfred’s shame-faced air, Uncle Armand’s 
emotion, and the discomforted mien of Arthur du Pom- 
meval. 

The hero of the adventure did not know what to do, 
nor whom to listen to, for every one spoke at once. 

Fortunately Germaine revived and disengaging her- 
self threw herself into her mother’s arms, who uttered 
a cry of terror at seeing her all covered with blood. 

“You are wounded!” she faltered. 

“ No, no,” murmured Germaine. “ It is nothing.” 

“And you, my friend?” asked M. Daudierne, seizing 
the brave lieutenant by both hands. 

“ Nothing, Monsieur, it is the blood of the stag.” 

“ All is well, then. You have saved my niece’s life 
at the risk of your own. We shall never be able to 
prove our gratitude to you, but I beg you to believe that 
you can command me always and in all things, and I 
depend upon seeing you soon at La Germoniere. Our 
hunt is ended, my niece must go home ; I do not propose 
to you to accompany us, but — ” 

“ I shall come to hear news of Mademoiselle,” said 
Pontac, timidly, “ but just now I fear to disturb you, 
and — ” 

“ Alfred, run to the carriage,” interrupted Madame 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


305 


Daudierne, “and tell Jean to drive here. Your sister 
cannot walk.” 

“I!” cried Germaine. “ I could climb up to the fairy 
rock.” 

At this moment the sound of wheels grinding upon 
the macadamized road and the joyous crack of a whip 
announced the arrival of a carriage. 

“ It is the doctor! ” cried Uncle Armand. “ He arrives 
very opportunely.” 

“ I assure you that I do not need his care,” said Ger- 
maine. 

M. Daudierne, who was not of this opinion, jumped 
into the road and stopped Dr. Subligny’s carriage. 

“ I knew that I should find you here,” began the good 
doctor, “ and I have come to see your operations. I am 
no sportsman, but still I like to hear the firing.” 

“Humph! Don’t talk about that!” exclaimed Uncle 
Armand. “ My niece has been gored by a stag.” 

“ It did not hurt her much, for here she comes. But 
you must have been very much frightened, and if you 
will take my advice, we shall all return to La Germon- 
iere, where I shall be much better able to take care of 
her.” 

Germaine, completely recovered, came up leaning on 
her mother’s arm, and declared that she needed nothing 
but rest. 

The carriage was ready, and they made her get in. 
Madame Daudierne, Uncle Armand and Alfred followed 
her. They had all lost their heads a little, and they for- 
got Laurence, who turned to Dr. Subligny and said : 

“ Will you take me, doctor? ” 

And she added in a low voice: 

“ I want to speak to you.” 

The good man offered her his hand to assist her to a 

20 


306 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


seat beside him in the queer vehicle which he drove 
himself. 

No one noticed them. Du Pommeval was devoting 
himself to Germaine, and Roger Pontac had remained 
modestly on the edge of the forest. 

u Gentlemen,” cried Uncle Armand. “ We shall see 
you this evening. Excuse us for departing so abruptly. 
It is the doctor’s orders.” 

The coachman whipped up his horses, and they started 
off at full trot, but Germaine had time to dart a look at 
Roger, into which she threw her whole soul. 

The tilbury followed, and the two rivals, left alone, 
separated, after exchanging certain cold formalities. 

Du Pommeval had not played a very good part to- 
day, and he was far from being pleased. 

“ What has happened ? ” said Dr. Subligny to Laurence. 

“ I don’t know exactly,” answered Mademoiselle Dau- 
dierne. “ I wasn’t there when Germaine was attacked 
by a stag which M. Pontac killed. She was not hurt 
very fortunately. But this accident has upset us all, and 
the best thing to do was to return home.” 

“Yes, the situation might become — well, you know 
Pontac is just the sort of man to please a young girl, 
and as he saved your sister’s life, she owes him grati- 
tude, while she owes nothing at all to du Pommeval. 
And upon my word, if my friend Roger had an inde- 
pendent fortune — ” 

“ He has, perhaps.” 

“ How so, Mademoiselle ? ” 

“ Roch Ferrer found a pocket-book belonging to Ma- 
dame Vignemal.” 

“ You have seen Roch Ferrer? ” 

“Yes, just now; I went up to L£mon Rock; he was 
hidden there.” 


OB, WHO IS THE HE IB? 


307 


“ I knew it. It was I who advised him to leave 'the 
banks of the Beuvron and depart to-night. But he was very 
wrong to show himself, and above all to speak to you.” 

“ You know also that he is in love with me?” 

“ Again that folly! I hoped that he was cured of a 
ridiculous passion.” 

“ A touching passion ! Roch Ferrer, who loves me 
without hope, is worth more than M. du Pommeval who 
has deceived me and who would deceive Germaine, if 
she should be weak enough to marry him.” 

The doctor did not say a* word. He was not prepared 
to receive this avalanche of confidences. 

“ But she will not marry him,” continued Laurence. 

“ I am certain now that she loves M. Pontac.” 

“The devil! That is serious, that is very serious,” 
muttered the doctor, shaking his head. “ Roger has 
nothing, and it will be difficult to persuade Madame 
Daudierne to accept him for a son-in-law.” 

“ Do you think she would do so, if he should inherit 
his cousin’s property ? ” 

“ I don’t know, Mademoiselle, but it is impossible for 
that to happen. Roch alone could testify in his favor, 
if there should be a lawsuit, but it would cost him dear, 
and besides he would not be believed. Pontac might 
even be compromised, since there is a magistrate idiotic 
enough to suspect him of, I know not what complicity in 
a crime which Roch did not commit. Roch is going to 
leave the country, and things will remain as they are.” 

“ Suppose the key of the enigma is here,” said Lau- 
rence, producing the pocket-book which Roch had given 
her. 

“ Why, there is the famous pocket-book!” cried the 
doctor. “ That fellow has confided it to you!” 

“Yes, to give to you.” 


308 


WAS IT A MURDER t 


“ And what the devil does he want me to do with it? ” 

“ He hopes, and I hope also, that you will be willing 
to ask President Lestrigon to open it.’*' 

“ That might be done,” answered the doctor after 
reflection. “ But I am convinced that it will be found 
to contain only insignificant papers. People do not carry 
their wills about with them. They leave them with a 
notary.” 

“ That is true,” said Laurence, twisting the pocket- 
book in her fingers. 

By chance, she pressed the steel button. 

“Oh! See there!” cried Dr. Subligny. “You have, 
without meaning to, opened the pocket-book. Nothing 
prevents us from examining the contents. I must ask 
you, however, to do so, Mademoiselle. I must drive my 
horse, and my hands are not free.” 

Laurence resolved to do as the doctor suggested, and 
she drew out a paper, which she unfolded, and read 
aloud, as follows: 

“ In case I should die suddenly, I beg my Lusband to 
take from my sleeping-chamber the ebony casket in 
which is deposited our marriage contract and give it to 
M. Bernier, my notary, who has the key to it, and who 
must open it in the presence of the president of the 
tribunal of Arcy.” 

And it was signed: Virginie Vignemal. 

“ W ell, Mademoiselle,” said the doctor, “ I was right. 
That paper does not change the situation of affairs.” 

“ True,” said Laurence, “ and yet, why did Madame 
Vignemal attach so much importance to it?” 

“ I don’t know, but surely if the casket in question 
contained a revocation of her will, she would not have 
charged her husband with carrying it to the notary. 
However, I see no reason why this pocket-book should 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


309 


not be placed in the hands of my friend, M. Lestrigon. 

But I do not feel obliged to confess to him that it has 
passed through yours. I shall tell him simply that Roch 
Ferrer found it, and I shall not lie. The President will 
attend to the rest. The seals placed at Fougeray will 
be removed and Maitre Bernier will open before wit- 
nesses the mysterious casket. This will be done to-mor- 
row and we shall know what it contains.” 

“You will come and tell me.” 

“ You, Mademoiselle, your mother, Mademoiselle Ger- 
maine, and all those whom the secret interests, a secret 
which is not worth your troubling yourself about, I would 
be willing to wager. And, until it is known, I shall say 
nothing to any one.” 

Laurence was satisfied. She gave the pocket-book to 
Dr. Subligny, who put it in his pocket, and the conver- 
sation ceased there. 

Laurence was afraid she had said too much, and Dr. 
Subligny did not care to know more before matters 
were cleared up. 

And when they arrived at La Germoniere, he was 
glad to find that Germaine was doing well after her per- 
ilous adventure. 




CHAPTER IX. ’ 

Why did the rich druggist, who built his country 
house upon the banks of the Beuvron, give himself the 
luxury of an orangery? No one had ever been able to 
find out. Perhaps he knew that the Duke .de Bretteville 
had one, and he thought that a rich merchant could pay 
for the same pleasures as a titled gentleman. 

In the time of Louis XIV, the petty princes of Ger- 
many ruined themselves in building palaces and planting 
gardens in emulation of the magnificent sovereign who 
created Versailles. 

The druggist did not ruin himself, but he only half 
succeeded. His orangery was immense and superb; 
there was nothing lacking except oranges. 

He could have bought young trees. The nursery-men 
of Paris sell them. But he wanted orange trees a hun- 
dred years old, historical orange-trees, like those at the 
chateau, which almost all dated from the reign of 
Henri IV. 

They were presented to the ancestors of the Duke by 
that warrior king, who slept at Bretteville on his way 
across Normandy, and they came from the park of Fon- 
tainebleau. The Revolution spared them, because the 
peasants did not know what to do with them, and they 
still flourished marvellously. 

As his money could not procure their equals, the new 
lord of La Germoniere was obliged to be contented with 
ricketty pomegranates and thick-leaved plants of doubt- 
ful origin, cactuses from Pantin near Paris and aloes 
from Montreuil. 


— 310 — 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


311 


Madame Daudierne, wiser in her way, had turned the 
orangery into a conservatory, and cultivated there rare 
flowers, which her daughters tended with care. In win- 
ter, when it was too cold in the garden and too warm in 
the salon, the conservatory was their favorite resort, and 
their mother sometimes joined them. Their brother 
seldom entered, but Uncle Armand liked to smoke his 
cigar there after breakfast. 

The day but one after the memorable hunting expe- 
dition, which had so nearly terminated fatally, the family 
assemblage was almost complete, Alfred alone being 
absent. He had taken flight to Arcy in the morning, 
under pretext of purchasing some novels at the library 
of the town, and had not returned. 

Germaine, gayer than ever, was occupied in cutting 
with a pair of scissors the dead leaves from certain plants 
of which she was particularly fond. 

Laurence was copying in water-colors some mimosas 
sent from Nice by an old friend of her father. 

At the other end of the long glazed gallery, Madame 
Daudierne and Uncle Armand were engaged in conver- 
sation. 

“ It is strange that we did not see any one yesterday,” 
said Uncle Armand. “ The gentlemen have deserted 
us.” 

“ M. Pontac came, the very evening of the accident, 
to ask after Germaine,” answered the mother, absently. 

“ He could not do less, but I could not persuade him 
to remain till she came down to the salon; he left after 
an interview of five minutes. He is a charming fellow, 
but he does nothing like any one else.” 

“ I like his discretion. After what happened at the 
hunt and the peculiar position in which Germaine is 
placed, the meeting would have been embarrassing.” 


3 12 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“And du Pommeval? How do you explain his non- 
appearance? We have not heard a word from him since 
we left him in the road, rather abruptly, I confess.” 

“ He has doubtless been prevented by business.” 

“ Then you don’t think that he is angry ?” 

“ I don’t know, but in truth, if he should withdraw 
his suit, I should not be sorry, and I don’t think Ger- 
maine would be either.” 

“ That is my opinion. She has never had much desire 
for this marriage, and du Pommeval did not distinguish 
himself the other day. The hussar distanced the elegant 
Arthur, and I acknowledge that I admired his courage 
and his presence of mind. Germaine certainly does not 
look upon him with an indifferent eye. Have you ques- 
tioned her to find out what she thinks ? ” 

“ I have not dared to.” 

w Y ou fear she would declare frankly her preference. 
I fear that too, but anything is better than uncertainty, 
and if I were in your place, I should try to know this 
very day how matters stand. If she refuses du Pom- 
meval squarely, she has a right to do so. You will not 
force her to marry a man whom she does not like. But 
if she is in love with this officer what will you do? ” 

“ I shall try to prove to her that such a marriage would 
be absurd.” 

w Because Pontac hasn’t a sou? She knows that, and 
do you think that your reasoning will have any effect 
upon her? She will answer you that money does not 
make happiness, and you can say nothing, for you your- 
self have taught her that fine maxim. That is the result 
of a sentimental education.” 

“ That is a reproach I don’t deserve,” said Madame 
Daudierne, a little piqued, “ I have brought up my chil- 
dren as it was my duty to bring them up. And although 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


313 


I have not taught them to worship wealth, I have never 
ceased repeating to them that one is happy in this world 
only on condition of being wise. I had hoped that my 
daughters would marry men with a fortune about equal 
to what they will have some day. It is not my fault if 
M. du Pommeval is too rich and M. Pontac too poor.” 

“Yes, you would like a happy medium. But that is 
not so easy to find, and since you are placed between the 
two extremes, you must choose. But the worst thing about 
it is, that there is nothing definite in the financial position 
of the two suitors.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Did you remark the doctor’s preoccupied air when 
he left us ? ” 

“Yes, he scarcely examined Germaine at all. He 
prescribed quiet and repose, and departed.” 

“ Germaine was not hurt. There was no use in dosing 
her with medicines. But Dr. Subligny, as he entered 
his carriage to return to Arcy, let fall a few words, which 
have caused me to reflect. He said: You must make 
Madame Daudierne promise ’not to conclude matters 
with du Pommeval before seeing me. I tried to obtain 
something clearer from him, but he whipped up his 
horse and drove off.” 

“That is singular. Why hasn’t he returned? He 
must know that we are waiting for him impatiently.” 

“ I told Alfred to go to his house and ask him to dine 
here this evening, but I don’t rely much on your son’s 
obedience. At all events, it seems to me that the time 
has come to question your daughter. Shall I call her?” 

“ Yes, Armand; but you will aid me, will you not? ” 

“Oh, very willingly. Germaine!” 

“ Here I am, uncle,” she answered. 

And she ran from the other end of the conservatory, 


314 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


her eyes sparkling, her hair a little in disorder, and a 
smile upon her lips. 

“ What grave faces! ” she said, looking at her mother 
and her uncle, who were seated side by side upon a 
bench. “You look as if you had established yourselves 
into a court to judge me. Of what am I accused?” 

“ I will tell you when you have promised to answer 
frankly,” replied M. Daudierne. 

“ Have you ever known me to lie? ” 

“No. To be silent is not to lie, and you have been 
silent for a long time.” 

“ I have been blamed so much for being a chatterer.” 

“ Be serious for once in your life, and to commence 
with, tell us what you intend to make of Arthur du 
Pommeval.” 

“ A leader of a cotillon, an accompanist on the piano, 
anything you like except a husband.” 

“Humph! That’s frank enough.” 

“You should have told me that sooner,” exclaimed 
Madame Daudierne, “ for you talked quite differently 
the day Dr. Subligny came to ask your hand, and there 
was no use in deluding that young man with a promise 
which you did not intend to keep.” 

“ I promised nothing at all. I said that I would re- 
flect, and — ” 

“ And you were already perfectly decided,” inter- 
rupted Uncle Armand. “ Why did you evade an answer 
in this way ? ” 

“ Because I wished M. du Pommeval to marry Lau- 
rence.” 

“You are crazy.” 

“No, for she loves him, he loved her once, and he 
will come back to her. Do you wish a proof of it? 
Look below there, without letting yourselves be seen.” 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


315 


Germaine, standing and half hidden by one of the 
boxes which the druggist had never been able to fill with 
orange trees, could see into the garden beyond the other 
end of the conservatory. Her mother and uncle, seated 
in front of her, had only to bend forward a little to see 
through the glass M. du Pommeval approaching. 

“ He has seen Laurence,” whispered Germaine, “ and 
he thinks that she is alone. I am sure he will enter on 
tiptoe and try to have an explanation with her. Don’t 
stir and don’t make any noise.” 

Madame Daudierne glanced at her brother-in-law, 
who muttered: 

“ Why not? The day before yesterday, at the end of 
the hunt, du Pommeval appeared dissatisfied enough. I 
shouldn’t be sorry to know what he has in his head. 
With that fellow, anything is possible.” 

“ There he is. He is coming in,” said Germaine. 
“Now if Laurence isn’t foolish ehough to call us.” 

Germaine was right. Du Pommeval slipped into the 
orangery, and walked softly toward the corner where 
Laurence was working at her water color. 

He evidently did not suspect that her mother, uncle 
and sister were there, for if he had seen them, he would 
certainly have come first to greet them. 

The orangery was as long as the corridor of a con- 
vent, and the pyramids of flower pots, placed upon stands, 
masked the little family group. 

Arthur had no longer that triumphant manner which 
distinguished him from the other young idlers of Arcy. 
His eyes were heavy, his face haggard, and, a more sig- 
nificant symptom than all the others, he was not as care- 
fully dressed as usual. 

He advanced, hat in hand, and Laurence, absorbed in 
her work, did not perceive his approach. When she 


316 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


raised her head, he was before her. She turned a little 
pale, but showed no other sign of agitation. 

“Do you wish to see my mother, Monsieur?” she 
asked coldly. 

“ No, Mademoiselle,” answered du Pommeval in a 
low, sad tone. “ It is you alone I wish to see.” 

“ Indeed ? What have you to say to me? ” 

“ Can you not guess? ” 

“ Not at all.” 

“ I have come to ask your pardon.” 

“ Pardon for what? ” 

“ F or having played an unworthy part ; I loved you, 
I have never ceased to love you, and I have feigned for 
another a sentiment which I did not feel.” 

“What!” said Laurence ironically. “You did not 
care for my sister, and you proposed for her! What 
was your motive then in deceiving her ? ” 

“ I was mad, — I adored you and I could not obtain 
from you any promise, you let me hope and that was all ; 
I thought that you acted thus through coquetry, and that, 
perhaps, if I could excite your jealousy, you would 
finally grant the consent I had implored so long, I 
hoped that — ” 

“You had a poor opinion of me, Monsieur,” inter- 
rupted Laurence, who had recovered all her coolness, 
“ and you care very little for the sufferings of others. 
To wound Germaine’s heart, after having wounded 
mine, was only play for you then ? ” 

“ I knew that your sister would seem to encourage 
me, and that, finally, she would refuse to marry me.” 

“ How did you know that? ” 

“ I guessed that she loved Lieutenant Pontac. And I 
am certain that she will now no longer deny it. Hasn’t 
he saved her life ?” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


317 


“ And now that you expect nothing more from her, 
you come to offer me what she has disdained ? ” 

w Mademoiselle, I swear to you that I have never 
changed. Appearances are against me, but I implore 
you to put me to the proof. Authorize me to ask your 
hand, and this very day — ” 

“ You will go to my mother? ” 

“ Instantly if you wish it. Where is she ? I was 
told that I should find her here.” 

“ She is here. You can guess, I suppose, what she 
will answer you.” 

“What! Madame Daudierne — ” 

“Is there below, at the other end of the conservatory, 
with my uncle and my sister. But I advise you not to 
attempt that errand, however flattering it may be to me. 
I think I may even predict to you, that, if you risk it, 
you will close against you the doors of our house for- 
ever. It is much better to go away at once, and never 
seek to enter here again.” 

Du Pommeval blushed to the eyes at hearing this dis- 
missal, which was well merited, and he was wondering 
what to do, when Alfred ran into the conservatory, cry- 
ing out: 

“ I bring news, the queerest news you ever heard. No 
one here? Oh! yes, Laurence; and — what? Du Pom- 
meval ! Ah ! I expected to find some one here, but not 
you. You don’t know what they say in Arcy then? ” 

“ In Arcy ? ” repeated du Pommeval, who had turned 
pale at perceiving young Daudierne. “No, I know 
nothing.” 

“ Then, by Jove,” said Alfred, “ I would rather you 
should hear it from some one else than me, and I advise 
you to return to the city, without losing a minute. Your 
lawyer must want to see you and consult with you, for I 


318 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


hope there is still some chance for you. The rumors 
are perhaps false.” 

Du Pommeval did not ask any questions. He was 
utterly discountenanced. And he thought it best to take 
his leave. He faltered a few words of excuse addressed 
to Laurence, and left the orangery more quickly than he 
had entered it. 

“ What!” cried Alfred. “ He goes away without tak- 
ing leave of you, without shaking my hand! What they 
say is true then.” 

“What? What do they say?” asked M. Daudierne 
from the end of the conservatory. 

“Hullo! Uncle! Are you there? And mother too; 
and Germaine! Are you playing at hide and seek? And 
du Pommeval didn’t see you!” 

“ We did not want him to see us. Tell us the news 
you bring.” 

“ It is not good news. It is said at the club that a will 
of Madame Vignemal’s has been discovered, which dis- 
inherits her husband.” 

“The devil! Your friend du Pommeval will lose 
everything, for he is no relation of the lady’s. And to 
whom has she left her fortune ?” 

“ They don’t know yet. But one thing is sure; not 
to that poor Arthur. She could not bear him.” 

“ She has perhaps simply revoked her first will, and 
in that case her property will go to her natural heirs, and 
there are a dozen of them, I believe. But it makes no 
difference to us, if du Pommeval gets nothing. By Jove! 
I would like to know what to believe, and I don’t under- 
stand the conduct of the doctor. He must be well in- 
formed, and he knows that the matter is of interest to 
us. He should be here to tell us about it. I told you to 
ask him to dine here to-night. Did you go to see him ?” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


319 


“ Yes, but he was out.” 

“ Will you be of some use to your family for once in 
your life?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, dome the favor of mounting Ralph, — he can’t 
be unsaddled yet — gallop to Arcy and send the doctor 
here. This is his consultation hour. You are sure to 
find him at home.” 

“Very glad to do it. Only I shall remain in town till 
to-morrow morning. Ralph has already made the jour- 
ney twice to-day. He shall do it once more, but twenty- 
eight kilometres in one day would be too much.” 

“ Remain as long as you like. We don’t need you. 
But we do want the doctor. Tell him that I beg him to 
come immediately.” 

“ Be easy. I will send him,” said Alfred, rushing out 
of the conservatory. 

“ Do you understand what all this means, the rest of 
you?” asked Uncle Armand. 

“ I understand that M. du Pommeval is ruined,” said 
Madame Daudierne. “You were right, my dear Lau- 
rence. Germaine should have decided sooner, since she 
does not care for him. It will be said now that she only 
accepted him for his money.” 

“ I don’t care,” replied Germaine. “ I will soon show 
. them that I don’t give a fig for money.” 

“ Do you know what M. du Pommeval said to me 
just now?” asked Laurence, addressing her mother and 
uncle. 

“We were too far away to hear,” replied Madame 
Daudierne. 

“ He swore to me that he had never loved any one 
but me, and that he was ready to ask you for my hand.” 

“ I said he would come back to you,” cried Germaine. 


320 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ But that fellow has insulted us,” said Uncle Armand 
with a frown. “He passes from the elder to the younger, 
and from the younger to the elder. He imagines then 
he has only to choose. No one has a right to act in that 
way, and I shall tell him the next time I see him what I 
think of his conduct.” 

“Oh! We shan’t see him again,” said Laurence. “His 
plan has failed.” 

“ His plan ?” 

“ Do you know why he came to offer me his heart? It 
was because he knew he had lost the inheritance. He 
hoped that I would engage myself to him at once, and 
as he has lost the fortune, he wished to marry at any 
price. He saw day before yesterday that Germaine’s 
preference was not for him, and he thought, that, for 
want of a better, I should still be a good match.” 

“ But he is an abominable rascal.” 

“No, he is a vain and selfish provincial.” 

“ Those are faults that can be excused,” said Madame 
Daudierne, “ but I see now that he has no heart. Thank 
Heaven he does not enter our family! ” 

“ Are you angry with me now for not accepting him ? ” 
asked Germaine mischievously. 

“ No,” replied Uncle Armand. “Your girlish instinct 
has been of good service to you. But the time is come 
to explain yourself fully. Do you love any one else? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I was sure of it, but your mother has the right to 
know whom. And you can speak before your sister 
and myself.” 

“ Y ou have not guessed ? ” 

“Yes; at least, I am afraid so. It is Roger Pontac.” 

“ Exactly.” 

“ Because he killed, valiantly, I acknowledge, a stag 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


321 


which had attacked you. That is all very well, but how 
many times have you seen this young man before the 
hunt?” 

“ Once, twice, three times,” answered Germaine, count- 
ing upon her fingers. 

“Humph! Your heart is quickly caught. You 
scarcely spoke to him in the salon, on the occasion of 
his first call here. To be sure he sang an Arabian song, 
something about a melodious bird.” 

“ I beg your pardon, but I know him much better 
than you think. The day when Ralph ran away with 
me, I met M. Pontac at Lemon Rock.” 

“ May the devil take your rock and the fairies who 
inhabit it!” 

“ I bless those good fairies ! If they had not protected 
me, I don’t know how I should ever have got back to 
La Germoniere. Fortunately, M. Pontac happened to 
be there. It was he who brought me home. Without 
him I should never have found the way.” 

“ And you concealed this adventure from us ! ” cried 
Madame Daudierne. “ That was very wrong, very 
wrong.” 

“ I know it was. But I was determined to marry him, 
and I wished to give you time to know and appreciate 
him. It was I who begged him to come and see you on 
any pretext.” 

“ Scandalous! ” growled Uncle Armand. “ And these 
are the artless girls of the present day ! ” 

“ Would you prefer me to be a hypocrite ? I have said 
nothing for eight days. Now I say all, and I declare 
loudly that l am compromised. Yesterday, M. du Pom- 
meval saw me fall into M. Pontac’s arms, and all the 
city of Arcy will know the story. There is no longer 
time to recede. If I don’t marry the man who saved 

21 


322 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


my life, I shall run the risk of being an old maid, for 
no one else will have me.” 

“ Upon my word, I begin to believe that you arranged 
to be attacked by that stag on purpose, or at least that 
the hussar had an understanding with the accursed ani- 
mal. But you speak of marrying Pontac as if it was a 
settled thing. Are you even sure that he will have 
you ? ” 

“If he won’t have me, I shall remain unmarried,” 
laughed Germaine. 

“ V ery well ! V ery well ! Y ou are sure of the senti- 
ments of your officer. They correspond perfectly with' 
your own, and I have only to ask you if you have 
reflected on the consequences of this fine marriage. I 
have nothing to say against the man you have chosen. 
I will even acknowledge that he is much better than du 
Pommeval in all respects. And the friendship with 
which the Duke de Bretteville honors him will not hurt 
his future. But, at present, he has only his pay, some- 
thing like two hundred francs a month. Y ou will bring 
him seven or eight thousand livres income, and later, when 
your dear mother is no longer in this world and when he 
has won a big epaulette, you may enjoy together an in- 
come of twetfty thousand. If the fairies who united you 
continue to watch over you, you will have a whole flock 
of children, the good fortune which they promise their 
favorites is never without that. Well, my dear, your 
daughters will be reduced to marrying rats in a cave.” 

“ No. Sub-lieutenants. They will do like their 
mother.” 

Uncle Armand threw up his arms. He was done 
with arguments. Madame Daudierne, in consternation, 
did not say a word. 

Laurence came to her sister’s rescue. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


323 


“ M. Pontac is not so poor, perhaps, as you think,” 
she said, quietly. “ For if, as they say, Madame Vig- 
nemal revoked her will, he will have his share in the 
inheritance.” 

“ What are you talking about?” asked her uncle, 
irritably. 

“ M. Pontac is Madame Vignemal’s cousin. Ask Dr. 
Subligny.” 

“ Of course he is her cousin,” said Germaine. 

“You knew it?” exclaimed Madame Daudierne. 

“ Y es, ever since the evening of the accident. And 
you ought to know it too, for the doctor related before 
you all the story of a boy whom Madame Vignemal, 
who was a near relative of his, sent to college in Paris.” 

“ What! that boy was — ” 

“ Roger Pontac. The doctor spoke his name, but you 
have no memory for names.’ 

“ But you have, and besides, the memory of the heart,” 
said Uncle Armand. “ I remember now, and I confess 
that your hussar has a chance to inherit, but it is only a 
chance.” 

“ I don’t care at all about its being realized. It would 
be thought that I was marrying for money.” 

“ You are certainly crazy, my child. But I wish Sub- 
ligny would come. Was this the reason he said to me: 
Don’t conclude with du Pommeval till I return. And 
he has not returned, the idiot! What does he mean by 
leaving us in this way ? ” 

“ Don’t get angry, uncle, I see him,” said Germaine. 

“ Here he is, indeed,” cried Madame Daudierne. “ He 
is buttoned up to the chin in his frock coat, and he looks 
very important. We shall hear some news.” 

The doctor entered, and shook hands all around as 
tranquilly as possible. 


324 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


It looked as if he guessed that they were waiting for 
him, and that he took pleasure in exciting by his calm- 
ness the impatience of his friends of La Germoniere. 

“ My nephew has just ridden off to go and find you,” 
commenced Daudierne. “ You should have met on the 
road to Arcy, not far from here.” 

“ I did not come directly from Arcy,” answered the 
doctor. “ I left there this morning, and I have just 
come from Bretteville.” 

“Ah! Then you have not met du Pommeval either 
on his way home.” 

“ No, and I am glad I didn’t.” 

“ It is true, then, that he is disinherited ? Alfred told 
us that this was the rumor in the city, but I could not 
believe it.” 

“ I have come expressly to tell you the great news of 
the day. Yesterday I was occupied in obtaining inform- 
ation. But I have it now, as complete and as sure as 
possible. It will astonish you.” 

“ Madame Vignemal revoked the will made in favor 
of her husband? ” 

“ Better than that. This is what has happened. That 
fellow, Roch, who was there when the couple were 
drowned, found upon the bank a pocket-book which 
Madame Vignemal had carried hung around her neck,, 
and he said nothing of it to any one.” 

“ I always said he was a rascal.” 

“ No. He is simply a savage, who understands no- 
thing of the affairs of ordinary life. He did not suspect 
that the pocket-book contained valuable papers, and he 
kept it, without opening it, mark that! I have been occu- 
pied with his affairs for some days, and I have persuaded 
him to leave the country and enlist in an African regi- 
ment. He departed yesterday.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


325 


“ So much the better. He will be hung somewhere 
else.” 

“ I certainly hope that he will not be hung nor even 
imprisoned. I have converted him, and I am sure he 
will make his way in the army. But before leaving, he 
gave me the thing he had found on the bank of the 
river,” said the doctor, looking at Laurence out of the 
corner 6f his eye. 

He felt that his recital must make her uneasy, and he 
wanted to re-assure her by letting her know that she had 
not been and would not be mixed up in the story of the 
recovered pocket-book. 

“ I understood at once,” he continued, “ the import- 
ance of this discovery, and I gave the pocket-book to 
my friend, the president, who had it opened with the 
prescribed formalities. A note was taken out, written 
in Madame Vignemal’s hand, in which she begged her 
husband, in case she should die before him, to take to 
Maitre Bernier, her notary, a casket placed in her sleep- 
ing-chamber. She charged Bernier to examine the 
papers contained in this casket. This examination was 
made yesterday, and it will have results which no one 
expected.” 

“ I guess them,” cried Uncle Armand. “ Du Pom- 
meval is disinherited.” 

“ It was not exactly he who was disinherited,” said 
the doctor, “but the husband. But it amounts to the 
same thing, since du Pommeval was related only to M. 
Vignemal.” 

“ Then the wife’s relations will share the property ? ” 

“ No, not that.” 

“What then? Explain, my friend. Don’t you see 
that we are dying with impatience ? ” 

“ The casket contained a will in the testator’s own 


326 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


hand, signed, dated; in a word, perfectly regular. And 
this will, which I have read, runs about as follows: My 
very dear husband will not think it wrong that I modify 
my testamentary provisions, for fear of what might 
occur after my death if I should leave them as they were.” 

“ That is a preamble you are repeating.” 

“ Yes, but the will comes after, and it is well for you 
to know all. To continue: My husband’s sole heir is 
M/ Arthur du Pommeval, the son of his sister, and I 
am certain that my husband w r ould not dare to change 
the natural order of succession. Now, I do not wish 
my property to go to a man of bad habits, who would 
quickly squander it.” 

“The devil! The lady of Fougeray is severe on that 
poor du Pommeval.” 

“ Severe and unjust, for the fellow would have settled 
down, I think. But he did not know how to please her, 
and his youthful follies have cost him dear. Listen to 
what follows: 

I have determined, therefore, upon an arrangement 
which will preserve the fortune painfully acquired by my 
father, and which will change nothing in my husband’s 
position during his life. This fortune will not go out of 
my family, and I have the firm conviction that it will be 
wisely taken care of, for good blood always tells, and 
the heir I choose has already proven by his conduct that 
he is worthy to succeed me.” 

“ Good! She has chosen the stingiest and most hard- 
working of her cousins, a laborer or a village usurer.” 

“Not exactly. The will is thus concluded : I learned 
it by heart. I, the undersigned, Virginie Pontac, wife 
of M. Francois Vignemal — ” 

“Pontac! Was our neighbor the aunt of your pro- 
t6g£, Roger Pontac? ” 


Oil, WHO IS THE HE in? 


327 


“ His aunt, after the fashion of Brittany, no more. 
Madame Vignemal’s father and Roger’s father were 
cousins, and were both named Pontac. She had many 
other relations of the same degree, who would have in- 
herited, like Roger, if she had died intestate. Fortu- 
nately, she foresaw this, and you shall hear what she did 
to prevent her beautiful estate of Fougeray from being 
divided. I, the undersigned, etc., do hereby give and 
bequeath to my husband, M. Francois Vignemal, during 
his lifetime, the revenue of all my real and personal 
property — ” 

“ That is a gift which the poor man never profited by.” 

“ His wife could not foresee that he would die at 
the same time as herself. The intention was there. Of 
all my real and personal property, which I bequeath as 
universal legatee to my cousin, Roger Paul Joseph Pon- 
tac, at present sub-lieutenant in the Ninth Regiment of 
Hussars, stationed at Gabes, in Tunis.” 

“ What! our young friend universal legatee! That is 
incredible. You told us that she gave him her curse, 
ten years ago.” 

“Wait! There is an explanation and a condition. On 
condition that Roger Pontac shall quit the military ser- 
vice within one year after the death of my husband and 
shall taj^e up his abode at Fougeray. I hope that 
Roger will accept this condition, which I impose upon 
him for his own good, and that he will forget my harsh- 
ness to him, as I have forgotten long since the faults of 
his youth. He has written me recently to announce his 
promotion to the rank of officer and his approaching 
return to France. I await him to make known to him 
the provisions herein contained, which are the definite 
expression of my wishes. — It is dated Fougeray, Novem- 
ber 19, 1881,” added Dr. Subligny. 


328 


WAS IT A MURDER f 


“ So that if the accident had happened a month ago, 
du Pommeval would have inherited,” said M. Daudierne 
between his teeth. 

“ Therefore, all is for the best.” 

“ That is your opinion, doctor? ” 

“ Yes, especially for the last two days.” 

“ We thought that you were interested in M. du Pom- 
meval.” 

“You were not mistaken, and the proof of it is that 
I undertook an errand for him, which I regretted later. 
But I am also interested in Roger. He is a brave, loyal 
and charming fellow. I have known him since child- 
hood, and I answer for him as I would answer for my 
own son, if I had one.” 

“ Here he is all of a sudden a millionaire, if he con- 
sents to resign from the army and live in the country, 
which I doubt.” 

“ I should doubt it also, if — ” 

“If what? If he had a higher rank or if the inherit- 
ance were not so large ?” 

“No,” answered Dr. Subligny, with a look at Ger- 
maine, “ if Fougeray were farther from La Germoniere.” 

“Well,” cried Germaine, if he should consult me, I 
should advise him to remain a soldier.” 

“ And as poor as J ob’s cat,” added her uncle, shrug- 
ging his shoulders. 

“ Oh, no! He would. still have his share in the inherit- 
ance.” 

“You are mistaken, Mademoiselle,” said the doctor. 
“ You are mistaken, as we were, when interpreting in our 
own fashion the articles of the Code which regulate the 
presumptions of survival. Since I committed that bull, 
I have had no confidence in myself, and I determined to 
consult a lawyer, whenever a question of law came up. 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


329 


So I asked my friend Lestrigon what would happen if 
Roger should prefer to follow the career he had chosen. 
And the president told me that the condition imposed by 
the testatrix not having been fulfilled by the legatee, du 
Pommeval could demand and perhaps obtain that the 
will be declared null and void. If this should be done, 
there would be a law-suit between him and the natural 
heirs of Madame Vignemal, which the latter would have 
a fair show of winning. In this case they would try to 
exclude Roger Pontac on the pretext that the refusal to 
execute a testamentary clause was equivalent to a renun- 
ciation of all claims to the property. There would there- 
fore be another suit against people who are not interest- 
ing, I assure you. The cousins would be led by a cer- 
tain Pierre Le Masle, who is in league with a rascally 
lawyer called V aurinet, to accuse that poor Roch F errer 
of having drowned Madame Vignemal, at Roger’s in- 
stigation.” 

“ In fact, they have accused them,” observed ivl. Dau- 
dierne. “I have even been one of their accusers; it is 
true that I did not know our friend Pontac was in ques- 
tion. But do you not think, doctor, that this miraculous 
finding of the pocket-book will give a certain coloring 
to vague suspicions ? It will be said that he had an inter- 
est in his cousin’s death.” 

“ That was said ^yesterday. The public prosecutor 
raised that point. But the president proved to him that 
he had only to read the will attentively to be certain of 
Roger’s innocence. ‘ I await him to make known to him 
the provisions herein contained,’ wrote Madame Vigne- 
mal the 19th of November, that is, three days before her 
death. Now, it is proved that neither before nor after 
she made her will did Roger Pontac see his cousin. It 
has even been stated that he came to the gates of F ouge- 


330 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


ray, and that he did not dare to enter. It is certain also 
that the good lady spoke to no one of what she had done 
at the last moment for the boy whom she was once fond 
of, and who had always deserved her affection, since he 
has acquired his rank by his own bravery and persever- 
ance. How could he know that he was the heir? My 
friend Lestrigon argued so well that the public prosecu- 
tor finally listened to reason, very much against his will. 
Then, I took in hand Roch Ferrer’s defense, and I per- 
suaded him, without a great deal' of trouble, to abandon 
the pursuit of our enlisted volunteer. In reality, it was 
the nobility and the army the head of the bar wished to 
attack, by arresting an officer at the house of the Duke 
de Bretteville. He did not care much about the poacher 
one way or the other.” 

“ This is excellent news, my dear doctor,” cried Uncle 
Armand, “ and you must know that it is particularly 
agreeable to one of my nieces.” 

“To both your nieces, I am sure,” answered Dr. 
Subligny, furtively regarding Laurence, who had been 
overjoyed at hearing that Roch Ferrer had nothing 
more to fear from the law. 

“ Certainly. But Germaine has personal reasons for 
being glad, reasons which you do not know yet, but 
which you guess perhaps.” 

“ Might it be the discomforture of that poor du Pom- 
meval which delights Mademoiselle ?” asked the doctor, 
with a smile. 

“ No, one ought never to rejoice at a neighbor’s mis- 
fortune,” answered Germaine, “ but I acknowledge that 
it doesn’t break my heart. That pretty fellow does not 
deserve to be rich. He loves no one but himself. I 
would like the same thing to happen to all heartless men.” 

“ What has he done to be spoken of in this way?” 


OR, WIIO IS TIIE HEIR? 


331 


“ He has insulted my sister, and he tried to insult me. 
Providence has punished him, in the way he will feel 
most, through his pocket, and it serves him light.” 

“ It is unfortunately true that I cannot explain M. du 
Pommeval’s conduct,” said Madame Daudierne. “ I 
have decided not to receive him again.” 

“ Did you not tell me, my dear Madame, that he had 
just left here ? ” 

“Yes, and it would have been better for him if he 
had not come, for he has shown himself in his true 
colors. Would you believe, Monsieur, that he had the 
audacity to say to my elder daughter that he had never 
ceased to love her?” 

“ Then he has insulted me also. He is a knave, and 
this will teach me a lesson. I will never be a matri- 
monial ambassador again.” 

“ You might perhaps be more fortunate another time,” 
said Germaine, lowering her eyes. 

“ I prefer not to risk it. Errands of that sort are com- 
pletely out of my line. I shall leave it to those who can 
do better.” 

“ I thought that you came from Bretteville.” 

“ So I do, Mademoiselle.” 

“ Then,” inquired M. Daudierne, “ you saw Pontac?” 

“ Y es, I had a long talk with him.” 

“ And, of course, you told him that he was the heir.” 

“ I went to the chateau especially for that purpose.” 

“ Well! How does he take his new fortune? ” 

“ Very calmly, I assure you. He cares much more for 
honor than for money, and I think that he would will- 
ingly give up his cousin’s property for a knot of red rib- 
bon valiantly gained.” 

“ The devil ! Does he propose to refuse the inherit- 
ance in order to remain in the army ? ” 


332 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“ He hesitates. His decision will depend on one 
thing.” 

“ On the Duke de Bretteville’s advice, perhaps?” 

“ No, not exactly; the Duke advises him to accept the 
condition, but he knows Roger’s peculiar position, and 
he leaves him free to act according to circumstances.” 

“ My dear Subligny, your responses are very vague. 
What circumstances do you mean ? ” 

“Well, a marriage, for example. If Pontac should 
marry, and the woman he marries should wish him to 
give up his military career, Pontac would resign to be- 
come master of Fougeray. If, on the contrary, he 
should remain a bachelor, he would prefer to take his 
chances of becoming a general some day or other.” 

This significant declaration troubled Madame Dau- 
dierne greatly and Uncle Armand a little. Germaine, 
doubtless, was prepared for it, for she did not change 
countenance. 

Laurence smiled and drew near her sister. She forgot 
her own trouble in Germaine’s happiness. 

“ Doctor,” said Uncle Armand, after a pause, “ I think 
that at the point we are now, we should hide nothing 
from each other. I will begin first, then it shall be your 
turn. You will not be very much astonished at learning 
that the younger of my nieces has given away her heart 
without consulting her mother, and that her choice has 
fallen upon a sub-lieutenant of your acquaintance. It 
only remains to know if the sentiments of this sub- 
lieutenant correspond to- hers, and no one is better able 
than you to inform us upon this important point. 

“Oh! Uncle!” said Germaine, with a little angry 
pout, “You invert the roles. The doctor should have 
commenced.” 

Madame Daudierne was silent, but it was plain to be 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


333 


seen from her expression that she agreed with her 
daughter in thinking that her brother-in-law had pre- 
cipitated matters. 

“ I acknowledge it,” said the doctor gaily, “ but I have 
sworn not to mix myself up in these affairs, and besides 
here is a caller for you.” 

“What under the sun is any one calling here for just 
at this time ? And Baptiste allows him to come in without 
asking us if we wish to receive him! ” exclaimed Uncle 
Armand. “ W e praise old domestics and we are wrong. 
A young man would not have made such a blunder; 
your Baptiste is a fool.” 

“ His conduct is all the more inexplicable, because the 
gentleman he is conducting is entirely unknown to me,” 
said Madame Daudierne. 

u And to me also,” murmured Germaine. 

u The rest of you can see him, but I can’t.” 

“ Some new official just arrived at Arcy,” said Lau- 
rence. 

u Y ou are mistaken, Mademoiselle,” said the doctor, 
smiling. “ La Germoniere is closed to government 
officials.” 

“ Oh! and then, that gentleman has too distinguished 
an air,” said Germaine. “ The officials of to-day don’t 
look like that; do they, uncle? ” 

The family, gathered together at the end of the con- 
servatory, were grouped in such a way that Uncle Ar- 
mand was behind his nieces and could not see the person 
whose arrival was so untimely. 

Dr. Subligny saw him, however, and as Baptiste 
opened the door of the orangery, he started to meet the 
visitor. 

“ Do you know that gentleman?” whispered Uncle 
Armand. 


334 


WAS IT A MURDER ? 


“Yes,” replied Dr. Subligny in the same tone, “ and 
you know him too. Come with me, for it is proper that 
you should present him to Madame Daudierne.” 

“ Good Heavens! It seems to me that it is the — ” 

“ Exactly. It is he. And I knew that he was coming.” 

Madame Daudierne and her daughters heard these 
whispers, but did not understand. They looked with 
anxious curiosity at the stranger whom they had never 
seen before. 

He was a man well on in years, but not an old man. 
His beard which he wore full was very gray, but his 
tall figure was still erect and his face was unwrinkled* 
His appearance and dress betrayed the gentleman of 
birth and breeding, and he could not be mistaken for one 
of the landed proprietors in the suburbs of Arcy, rich 
shopkeepers or agricultural squires. 

Madame Daudierne was stupefied at seeing this im- 
posing personage stretch out his hand to her brother-in- 
law, who bowed low before him. 

Germaine suddenly understood. She whispered in 
her sister’s ear: 

“ Come away. You must. I will tell you why in a 
minute.” 

And she dragged Laurence away. 

Their mother, astounded, had no time to call them 
back, or to ask an explanation of their sudden departure. 

“ My dear Reine,” said M. Armand to her, “ here is 
the Duke de Bretteville who does us the honor of coming 
to see us.” 

“An unexpected honor,” faltered the modest chate- 
laine of La Germoniere. 

“You recall to me, Madame, that I have excuses to 
make to you,” began the Duke, bowing with that easy 
grace which is fast disappearing in our day. “ I am 


OR , WnO IS THE HEIR? 


335 


your neighbor, for the first time, this year, as I have 
never stayed at Bretteville since the war, and I should 
have come to pay my respects to you sooner, if I had 
not been condemned by the. death of my only son to 
live in retirement.” 

44 I am very grateful to you, Duke, for having come to 
us,” said Madame Daudierne, 44 and it is for me to ask 
you to excuse me; I so little expected to be honored by 
your visit.” 

44 Let us go into the house,” said Uncle Armand. 44 The 
salon would be a better place to receive the Duke.” 

“ I am very comfortable here,” said the Duke. “ I 
only regret having caused Madame Daudierne’s charm- 
ing daughters to take to flight, but I can take advantage 
of their absence to tell her what brings me, and I hope 
that they will then return. I come, Madame, to ask of 
you the hand of Mademoiselle Germaine Daudierne for 
the comrade of my poor son, for Roger Pontac, whom 
I love as if he were of my own blood. Need I add that 
I should not ask it so suddenly, if I did not know that 
my young friend is madly in love, and that his financial 
position allows him now to aspire to an alliance to which 
he would not have dared to pretend, when he possessed 
only his sword ?” 

The Duke might have said also that Roger knew 
Germaine’s feelings, but he had taken care not to com- 
mit this indiscretion, which, under the circumstances, 
would have been almost an impertinence. , 

44 1 am very much flattered,” murmured Madame Dau- 
dierne. 44 We know M. Pontac and appreciate his good 
qualities. But you understand, Duke, that I must first of 
all consult my daughter, and I will — ” 

44 You know very well, my dear Reine, that there is 
no need of that,” interrupted Uncle Armand. 44 The 


336 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


Duke, doubtless, is not ignorant of whattookplace in the 
forest, and, besides, Germaine, who does not know how 
to hide anything, has clearly declared that she has prom- 
ised herself to Pontac, and that she will have no other 
husband than that brave fellow, who possesses every- 
thing necessary to render her happy. Nothing is want- 
ing, then, but your consent, and I hope that you will not 
place any obstacle in the way of your daughter’s happi- 
ness. If I were called upon to vote, I should vote yes, 
with both hands; and so would the doctor, I am sure.” 

“With enthusiasm!” cried the ex-surgeon-major. 
“ If I should refuse, I should be alone against you all,” 
said Madame Daudierne. 

“ But you will not refuse. I am going to find Ger- 
maine.” 

“ Don’t go. I am here,” said a silvery voice. 

The mischievous girl had not gone very far. She was 
hidden behind a clump of shrubbery, and she suddenly 
appeared, with her arm about her sister. 

Laurence was paler than usual, but Germaine did not 
appear at all embarrassed. She made a pretty courtesy 
to the Duke de Bretteville, and said to him gaily : 

“ I have heard all, Duke. But I beg you to believe 
that it is not my habit to listen at key-holes.” 

The Duke was not one of those sticklers for etiquette 
who take in bad part the slightest infringement of the 
proprieties, and he never thought of being annoyed at 
this rather lively appearance upon the scene. He only 
admired Germaine’s youth and beauty, her eyes spark- 
ling with delight, her sweet face so full of frankness, 
her voice which went straight to the heart, and he 
smiled kindly. It was the first time since his son had 
died in battle. 

“ Mademoiselle,” said he, holding out his hand, “ I 


OR , WHO IS THE HEIR? 


337 


knew that Roger could not love any one unworthy, and 
now that I see you, I consider him the most fortunate of 
men.” 

And he gallantly kissed her soft, white hand. 

“ Not yet,” said Germaine. “I have some conditions 
to make.” 

“ Roger will agree to them all.” 

“ Are you quite sure ? I wish to be the wife of an 
officer, and as he will forfeit his cousin’s fortune if he 
does not hand in his resignation — ” 

“ Within a year, Mademoiselle,” interrupted the Duke. 

“And before a year he will be decorated,” added Dr. 
Subligny ; “ he has already been proposed. And once 
he has the cross, I don’t see why he should remain in 
service. Our leaders talk much of revenge, but they 
spoil our chances of taking it by mobilizing the national 
guard.” 

44 The day of revenge will come, whatever they do,” 
said the Duke, 44 and then Roger can take his rank again 
in the army, unless they give him a regiment to com- 
mand.” 

“ That is true,” said Germaine, 44 the will gives him a 
year to decide. Well, I will wait also. And that will 
be best. What would the jooople of Arcy say, if I 
should marry Roger a month after he inherited a for- 
tune which M. du Pommeval expected to receive? I 
should seem to cling always to the richest.” 

44 It would be worse if you should wait till Roger 
entered into possession. It would be believed that hav- 
ing been deceived in your hopes in regard to du Pom- 
meval, you determined to take precautions this time. I 
can hear now the good people of our charming city say: 

4 The husband is of little account, provided he has the 
money,’ and other things quite as kind.” 


22 


338 


WAS IT A MURDER? 


“You are above such gossip, Mademoiselle,” said the 
Duke de Bretteville, “ but will you permit me to plead 
Roger’s cause? You would impose a very hard task 
upon him if you should postpone his happiness a year.” 

“ And if you insist on his remaining a soldier after 
you have married him, you will be obliged to go and 
live in a garrison at Gabes,” added Uncle Armand. 

“ I should be very glad to go. It would be charming. 
I could protect that poor Roch Ferrer, who enlisted so 
bravely,” cried Germaine, with a look at Laurence. 

“ Roch F errer will make his way by himself,” ob- 
served Dr. Subligny. 

Madame Daudierne had not yet given her opinion, 
and it was time for her to do so. 

“ My dear child,” she began in a voice trembling with 
emotion, “ the reasons which you advance have no 
weight. You love M. Pontac, and I do not blame you 
for loving him, no more than I oppose your marrying 
him ; but if the present situation is prolonged, it would 
become unbearable for you, for him, and for us. I ask 
you, therefore, to decide immediately.” 

“Decide!” cried Germaine. “ But I have done so.” 

1 Then, Mademoiselle,” said the Duke, “you authorize 
me to bear to Roger the happy news, which he is im- 
patiently waiting for.” 

“ So impatiently that he has remained quietly at the 
Chateau de Bretteville,” said the young girl with a smile. 

“ It would have been, perhaps, more suitable if he had 
remained, but — dare I acknowledge to your mother that 
I brought him with me? ” 

“What! He is here!” cried Uncle Armand. 

“ I left him on the road at the end of the avenue, and 
I am sure that he is counting the minutes, for I promised 
to return as soon as I fulfilled my mission.” 


OR, WHO IS THE HEIR? 


339 


“ It would be better for me to go and find him, Duke, 
and I will do so at once,” said M. Daudierne. 

“ May I know, my dear uncle, what you are going to 
say to him ? ” asked Germaine. 

“ That you have taken an outlandish idea into your 
head, but that you will get over it, I hope, and that you 
will marry him, with or without delay. Is that right? ” 

“ About.” 

“ Good ! The rest lies with him. He must make you 
hear reason in regard to fixing the day and your journey 
to Africa.” 

“You may add that the wife ought to obey her hus- 
band. I have read that fine maxim in the Code, and I 
submit to the law.” 

u The marriage shall be celebrated then in the chapel 
of my chateau at Bretteville,” said the Duke, smiling. 
“ I intend to depart for Italy in six weeks, and Roger 
wishes me to be his witness.” 

“ That will be a great honor for us, Duke,” answered 
Germaine, ceremoniously. “ And M. Pontac’s wishes 
are my wishes. But before he comes, I have still ten 
minutes of liberty. I will take advantage of it to have 
a talk with my sister.” 

No one made any objection, for this arrangement suited 
everybody. Uncle Armand was in a hurry to bring 
Pontac, Madame Daudierne felt the need of a talk with 
the Duke de Bretteville, who asked nothing better than 
to sing the praises of his protege. The doctor wished 
to insist upon the certainty of the inheritance and to 
make known the opinion of President Lestrigon upon 
this important point. Finally, Laurence was not sorry 
to leave the family council, in which she had no part. 

“True! Really true! You do not love him ? ” asked 
Germaine, when they were alone. 


340 


WAS IT A MURt)ER? 


“No. I despise him too much.” 

“ They say that does not make much difference in 
love. I don’t know. But you did love him once.” 

“ I was blind. He has taken care to open my eyes 
himself.” 

“ Isn’t it rather that you love another, perhaps ? ” 

“You are mad. Where did you get that idea? ” 

“ If I am mistaken, so much the worse. I did think — ’.’ 
“What?” 

“You will laugh at me, but I don’t care. Well, the 
day before yesterday, you went up to Lemon Rock. I 
saw you.” 

“ Mother saw me also. And what if I did ? ” 

“ I imagined that you also had consulted the oracle.” 

“ I had nothing to ask it,” said Laurence, sadly. 

“ It answers sometimes without being interrogated. 
But keep your secret, if you have one. Only let me 
tell you that I want you to marry, as I am going to 
marry, the man of your choice — you cannot choose badly 
— and if he loves you as you deserve to be loved, the 
rest amounts to nothing. I only regret one thing, and 
that is, that Roger is rich. I would have liked him to 
owe everything to me, but I am going to make, in spite 
of myself, what they call in Arcy an advantageous mar- 
riage. But you can find what I sought, a valiant soldier 
who enlisted for love of you, and who will return with 
a rank nobly won. 

“ In ten years,” murmured Laurence with emotion. 
“ It is a Ipng time.” 

“ Roger only took eight to become an officer, and he 
did not depart for my s-ake. Roch, who adores you, 
will have his epaulettes in five years.” 

“ Roch! What do you mean? ” 

“ I have guessed all, and I have the right to be inter- 


OR, WHO 18 THE HEIR? 


341 


ested in him, for if he had not given to that good doctor 
the pocket-book of our poor neighbor of Fougeray, I 
should have had all the difficulty in the world in getting 
rid of du Pommeval. Now, not a word more. No 
one shall know what I know; no one, except Roger, 
who will not injure Roch Ferrer’s advancement. But 
here is Uncle Armand, and he brings M. Pontac. Come, 
let me present you to my husband.” 

This was quickly done, although Laurence drew back; 
and Germaine had the good sense to spare Roger the 
embarrassment of expressing what he felt, for she 
would not allow him to speak. 

“ Duke,” she said gaily, “ it was upon your lands that 
my happiness was decided ; L£mon Rock belongs to you, 
and the fairies who inhabit it certainly favored my first 
meeting with M. Pontac. You must allow us to invite 
them all to our wedding.” 

Then, turning to her sister, she threw her arms about 
her neck, and whispered : 

“And to yours too, later. For you will marry the 
man you love, and be happy. The fairies have prom- 
ised me.” 

Roger Pontac has not yet sent in his resignation, but 
he will do so before the end of the year, and he was 
married yesterday to Mademoiselle Germaine Daudierne. 

Roch Ferrer is a corporal, and will certainly become 
a commissioned officer. 

Will Germaine’s prediction be one day fulfilled? 

Why not? 


THE END. 


























































































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of the United States made upon a geometrical projection since the war. 

Rand, McNally <fc Co.’s New Railroad and County Map, extending 
from the Atlantic Coast to Great Salt Lake, size 80 x 58 inches, 
in colors, mounted upon heavy paper, rollers top and bottom (a 
section of our complete United States work), a map for the people, 
at a popular price. Retail, $5.00. 

Rand, McNally «fc Co.’s New Railroad and County Map of the Terri- 
tories and Pacific Coast, 60 x 58 inches, in colors, mounted upon 
heavy paper, rollers top and bottom (a section of our complete 
United States work). Retail, $5.00. 

Rand, McNally & Co.’s New Township, County and Railroad Map of 
the Northwest. Price, $‘1.00. 

Size 58 x 42 inches ; extends from the eastern boundary of Ohio, west to the 
Rocky Mountains ; and from the southern boundary of Missouri north to Manitoba. 
Shows all Railroads in red. Mounted on rollers top and bottom. 

Rand, McNally & Co.’s New Official Railroad Map of the United States 
and Canada, mounted on rollers, size 58 x 41 inches. Price, $1.50. 

Rand, McNally & Co.’s Reversible Map of the Northwest nnd the 
United States; combines the two preceding Maps. Price, $3.00. 

Rand, McNally & Co.’s New Railroad and County Mnp of the North- 
eastern States, with parts of Ontario and Quebec, size 40 x 41 
inches; scale, 17 miles to one inch; mounted upon heavy paper, 
rollers top and bortom. Price, $1.00. 

This Map includes all of the New England States, New York, New Jersey, 
Pennsylvania, Maryland, Delaware, Quebec and Ontario. 

A Full Line of Mnps of Foreign Countries and Cities kept in stock. 
Send for Descriptive Catalogue. 

























































































































































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